Sciatica Ornithology

the start of something
a puffed-out robin’s chest,

calf muscles flutter,
hundreds of feather tips
lifted by the breeze.


           a beak pulling at a loose thread.
           the act of building a nest first requires something else to unravel.

spasms across the back of my thigh,
                coyotes yelping into the night—
a flock of partridges, scattered.




7 a.m., packing another lunch:
apple sauce, hummus, berries, a tuning fork
                                                                                 struck,

                     rattles my leg,
                     parched, ready to ignite,
                     blame the blackbird,
                          such scored calls radiate
                     down and out.

limbs

      all
right angles,
tense

body not
meant to be square,
lie me flat


                                      please,


I beg until my back goes grey,
blood spot on my lower lip, I become
the Herring Gull.

shhhh,

the sacral bill of the White-faced Ibis
dips down below the muck
searching

swallows
in and out of the cliffside/dosette

this time, which trinkets
are dropped into the gaping mouths
of babies?

Canada Goose,
just one
          overwinters
with a domestic flock,

a crowd gathers.

everyone keeps asking,
is it coming? is it going?

instead of, what
does it need in that moment?

as many doctors as sparrows in the grasses.


I stop remembering them,
abbreviate as Spine appt.
Meds appt.
Shared appt.
Sports appt.
and so on
and

I’m submerged again,

tunic damp,
three days sweat,
reach, body slick, can’t
quite—too late

red slash
up the collar,
the loon
crying out.