poetry

Suburban aviary.

6:35am:
YogaFit at the gym,
she preens in the studio mirrors,
ruffling and smoothing her hair back
before she swoops into swan pose.

12:17pm:
She pecks at the granola
and blankly stares out
the floor to ceiling windows
in her open concept kitchen.

5:32pm:
An errant feather
from the duvet
floats past an empty wine bottle.

8:53pm:
She sharpens
her fingernails into talons
before her husband
can belch and lumber
his way into bed.

1:07am:
The owl calls,
and everything in her body
is screeching for flight.

©Nancy Botta, 2018

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