A cat grabbed a fledgling by the feet.
A storm shook a fledgling from a tree.
The sky caught a fledgling as it fell.
A snake bit a fledgling in the neck.
A hawk seized a fledgling by the head.
A bird caught a fledgling as it fell.
A wasp stung a fledgling in the wing.
A crow plucked a fledgling from the grass.
The grass caught a fledgling as it fell.
A truck hit a fledgling in the road.
A stone hit a fledgling in the eye.
A branch caught a fledgling as it fell.
A cowbird pushed a fledgling from the nest.
The eye burned a fledgling with the lens.
The wind caught a fledgling as it fell.
*If your story ends with sorrow rather than hope,
reverse the wind and the sky.
Why does the highway go quiet sometimes?
We’re starting all over from nothing.
Why do pillbugs gather to die?
How good the rug-world felt beneath them.
Why is the sidewalk buckling there?
We were warned by the orange wooden horses.
Why can’t I sleep tonight?
The senses help each other fill the space.
Why do the rivers and our palms look alike?
There used to be a footbridge made of pine.
Why do we go through the door into darkness?
The spots on the wings look like eyes.
Why is the nest filled with ribbons and webs?
Only from the top step of the ladder.
Why did the tooth break off in the apple?
It was nothing but a list of names.
Why does the curtain close over the screen?
The curtain closed over the screen.
Carolyn Guinzio’s fourth collection, SPINE, will appear in Fall, 2015. She is the text editor of YEW: A Journal of Innovative Writing & Images By Women. Find her online at carolynguinzio.tumblr.com