* * *
My Father Caught Me a Bird
My father once captured a bird in his fists
I’d seen it flit by and said lo quiero
From his spread-legged seat, my father leapt
like a fired piston, Budweiser cans and an ashtray
crushed as his dark oiled hands clamped
around the fragile-white feathers
His mouth strained as if the thick cage
of his fingers would shatter against the thrash
of a bird. Though I’d seen those graphene hands
shape metal, break glass
Holding the bird in his fists, he gave it a gamble shake
as if it were a divination and its dried bleached
bones would rattle. But I met the trapped black eye
and asked my father to let it go, waiting
as his palms opened like a cervix
to a baby bird stalling for flight
* * *
Fueled by the magic of espresso, Miami-born Vanessa Montalban channels her wanderlust for far-off worlds into writing speculative fiction. She’s a first-generation graduate from the University of Central Florida and is hard at work creating a collection of stories. She is represented by Danielle Burby of Mad Woman Literary and her work has appeared in Diabolical Plots.
featured photo by Elijah O’Donnell from Pexels
