American Bird

My college roommate informed me of a bird

Bashing its skull into our bathroom window

Like maybe It just wanted its beak to be broke…

& i didn’t quite believe it until 2 days before the inauguration.

I was stationed on the throne & a tapping turned my head.

The bird looked confused.

Like it was a sad eagle trapped in a cycle of some dumb bird.

The day of the inauguration, A storm hit southern california.

& in broad daylight, all the wind & the rain Uprooted

any growing thing in sight, The might of which

built a wall of broken limbs In front of the library.

Outside was an overcast ocean of trees turned into casualties

& with so much destruction, this christian university

Looked akin to the beginning of the apocalypse.

See, i didn’t want to grant

He-who-shall-not-be named

The majesty of being crowned the antichrist

But that storm built a wall blocking the library

I think of that bird bashing into glass.

I didn’t see it for weeks.

Just went to class, went to the cafeteria,

A blonde boy walked in

With a “make america great again” hat &

I lost my appetite. Went to the parking lot.

Saw that same old bird

Pecking its reflection in rearview mirrors

Flying into itself over and over, looped.

I wonder what they did with the branches blocking the library.

I wonder if maybe they built a nest.

They could have.

Maybe the bird didn’t know.

(Heather Dora, 2017)