BIRDS, 3
by Toti O’Brien
She remembers
when she saw flamingos
by the thousands.
First on land
necks bent
some perched on one leg like a crane.
Throbbing pink
her favorite color.
Waves of it
the hemorrhage spread till the horizon.
Then the flight
breathtaking and sudden.
In the car
she recalls her husband.
Her child… was he there?
Someone else drove.
Someone shared the back seat.
Circumstances have gone.
Only stays the flamingo flight
in the sunset.
Strange.
No feeling
surrounds the vision.
If she insists
digging scraps out of mud
her throat knots itself.
A stab of pain surfaces.
Must be why she
suppressed it.
Isn’t it what
consistently
fills the blank?
Gyroscope Review - page 7!