Birdbones By Cassidy Black


i am borderline and smiling
with two fingers down my throat
and no way out

the hospital light filters in
through plexiglass windows

the nurses wrapped me up
in gauze and silvadene
hawk-eyed critics of how
i tried to survive my self

allowed no more than two blankets
in february
when my birdbones crave the warmth
of wool and we can’t go outside

doctor’s orders

the nurse i hate makes me
clean up my own vomit
when i eat too many funyuns
on a good day

in a dream:
i am not crying at the dinner table
i am not a dead man’s daughter

i am fourteen trips around the sun
i am the goddamn miracle

By Cassidy Black


Cassidy Black is a small-town poet and op-ed article contributor for her local newspaper. She has attended Winter Tangerine’s summer writing workshop at Poets House, NYC. She collects postcards, glass bottles, and experiences she can write about.

Leave a Reply