we send messages
in the birds
but they hatch
without mouths

some time ago
we must have forgotten
how to solve this

everything feels the same
and I regret that faces
change us

I open the door
but as I pass through
you’re already leaving

a carousel of settings
asphalt to woodland
impossible distances
achieved by turning

we’ve met these trees
over and over
and still haven’t learned
to appreciate shade

and the birds             beakless
still struggle to sing
you blind them
so they won’t have to watch
the sun rise

Janice Worthen lives in the Bay Area. By day, she is the shipping coordinator
for Small Press Distribution. By night, she writes poetry and freelance news
stories, blogs, and snores. Her poems have appeared in The Rectangle,
Switchback, and Your Impossible Voice.


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