O little airport bird
O patron saint of liminality
Come rap your wings
‘Gainst garbage cans and squawk.
O little brown one
Perched sweetly on the ticket-teller
Hop lightly on
Linoleum and watch.
O jewel-bug carapace:
O sun-encrusted car parade
We come amid dawn fog
Eyes bent from glare.
Bag-laden, we waddle
Through metal detectors
Past you, little sparrow—
Up into the air.
This article appears in February 2016.









