Dawn Chorus

The birds in hidden chorus
announce an empty day.
A pale cold sun coughs lines of light
that fly beyond my reach away.

All of my hopes inside the drawer
have vanished when I look.
All of my meals are bread.

A seed was planted inside last night.
An evil splinter in my breast and head,
and it hisses that I am dead.
Dead like old words,
and the memory of the birds.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.