Aperçus Quarterly 1.3

Standing WaterOn our way a crow in the sprinklersoakedivy sinks deeper until we canhear it squawk only when we pass,the ivy’s leaves trembling in sunlight.Later, we notice a set of wingsflattened by the side of the road;the wings, headless, large and gluedby their dried blood to the asphalt.We hurry the kids along when they ask“What’s wrong?” We hurry them pastthe fallen birds and the appearing oneshiding behind our Mexican flower pots.We begin to study the pools of water,the still water, the untreated water, turning greenin our sleep, breeding what we come to see:a hand nudging us beyond the unusual;a pair of eyes perched on our sagging clothesline;a beak singing into its own ruffled chest.18