from AP Press, Nov 2, 2006

The scissors were the beak
of a stork, piercing, swallowing

down the fleshy bead like a minnow.
Now the girl screams at pigeons,

staccato songs of finches
shoveling seed. Migrating flocks

darken skies like a pulled shade.
Dreams are filled with wings,

feathers caught in her throat.
Her father is an Ibis.

His fingers striated red.