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“Bird” by Jenna Le
We heard her and came running
We heard her
wings blurred
We heard her fly up the metal chute
only to find herself self-entrapped in our laundry room
self-buried in our linen hoard
her exit route barred
We heard her throat burr
We heard her
wings blurred so we came running
feet bare on the red-carpeted stairs
We heard her so we herded her
We harried her toward an opened window, a soft sunlit square
amid the hard boards
We hurried her and harried her
and herded her toward the open air
our broom-waving horde must have seemed to her a horror
for all that we heralded her liberty
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Jenna Le authored Six Rivers (NYQ Books,