Bird in Flight

By Bronwyn Averett

Your hand would
                or could
 
                not tolerate
this level of deception
 
Fingers bruise over
                the playing field
 
Truth is erected at
                the expense
                of tranquility
 
All interruptions fade
 
Crack the winding
                whip-smart wit!
You never saw it
 
                throbbing and pale
 
A bird is not
                a knife
A joke is not
                a weapon
 
Little idols plunge
    into the ground
    gods rain down
    logic takes root
 
Weed out the itching magic!
                the woolful witchcraft
 
Seek out light
         and flint
         and blood
 
Make your babies fare
                better against
                the sun’s heat
 
    sizzle, beat
    flinch, teach
 
Remain taut
 
Turn to your ancestors with love
As you would
         or could
                                your children
 
Never let them see you coming
 
The bird in flight
                the joke
                                will land
 
Eventually

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Bronwyn Averett is a writer, editor, and translator living in Montreal. She holds a PhD in French and has written about books for publications such as the Montreal Review of Books, Electric Literature, and Rain Taxi. You can find her most recent translation, excerpts from Anne-Marie Desmeules' Le tendon et l'os, at carte-blanche.org.