At the Bench
She unhooks her helmet
and set it down level with the black bird’s knee.
The bird does not fly, but sidles
along the back of the familiar bench.
Insulated by gloves, her fingers
absently flicker and poke
across her bicycle’s handlebars,
in mute apology for her lack of caws and croaks.
Their unspoken words wax and wane, mock,
evoke, ignite,
Locking eyes with the bird
she feels herself pulled in
by a light paralysis she neigher fears
nor yet, quite cherishes.
Anita Sullivan is a poet and essayist working in Western Oregon’s Willamette Valley for 40 years. She has published a Greek travel book, two full length poetry collections, and a fantasy novel. She is a founding member of the Portland, OR poetry publishing collective, Airlie Press.
