Magpie
Cindy Duhe
Black and blue
across the sky
you wished to fly away
but, grounded, here, forever be
whle my questions you will evade
with a simple sigh and clearing voice
when asked, “Maggie, what’s happened to you?”
Shrugs and tidings blindly fall
from the mouth that once did smile
but turned around so wretchedly
from a gay face to a frail frown
when he slapped you cheek to eye
as I blindly stood by
and asked, “Maggie, why didn’t you call?”
Ashamed and afraid, you said you were
but it was a blur
the things that happened
after I got the call,
not from you, but from the hospital
telling of the news
that your lesions, both black and blue
had bored right through your tears
landing grounded, beaming into my eyes
as I cry
and ask, “Maggie, why did you die?”
The answer was known all along
by us all
with no long
before his beating
and our silence
left our Magpie
blue and black
with the final slap
across the back
that made this camel fall.
