maya collins
bird cage
I ate too many meds.
Breath like a knife in my throat and
An ambulance arrives. Buoyed
On a soft, white bed—
A beast, it beats in my breast.
It moves like something red.
Like pelicans with wet wings
Attempt to fly after oil spills. Like
A thing that stings, like sweat.
Too many pills in the pit of
Me are pitiful conductors
Of a dirge, overdue. I’m sorry,
Sorry, sorry. Like jazz, let sirens roll.
My friend, she loves me.
She loves me, she says. She stretches
A hand that is cut by cold,
Stretches as a tall tree’s boughs are towed,
Stretches across a stretcher,
Takes in mine, gives orphan shelter.
My breast, my chest is a cage.
Twisted, bent, metal that is
Rusted. Fragile shadow
Box. Ribs can break.
I hope they find me a place.
More than that, a smith of
Metal. I hope they make me
New. A bird whose wings
Can lift. Throat and belly,
For love, befit.
Maya Collins is a published author, passionate artist, and member of the Girls Write Now Collaboratory. She currently lives in Pennsylvania and plans to continue her undergrad at Wheaton College in the fall as a Studio Art and English Writing double major. More of her work can be viewed on her Instagram, @poems_by_maya.
