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!