Golden Horses

I Would Like to Have a Bird in My Throat - Beth Kellmurray

I would like to have a bird in my throat.
Perhaps a dove, or a robin,
one with that rusty orange chest.
It would sing you the words;
tell you we are pretty little accidents,
like when your stubble scraped against my cheek
when you leaned in to say happy New Year.
Like the apology that followed for the clumsiness.
Like the curtains that didn’t keep morning out;
the leg that pulled all the sheets to one corner.
The song would come from the bird’s tiny chest
and tell you that this is all okay.
But you cut it from my throat,
pluck it of all its feathers until it is naked,
standing before us with nothing
but its shame.
The cat drags it to the doorstep—
a peace offering for the mistakes made,
but the stench still lingers.

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I am a recent English grad. Readers can find me at my Tumblr, Twitter and Blogspot.