She says she has something to tell me puts down her drink. I am counting the seconds of her pause and breath. She says she is afraid that a bird will die in her hands that there are things in the world she cannot save. I ask her how many birds she has ever cupped she tells me none but says me she has seen them held. I ask her how many of those carefully cradled creatures died. Her silence tells me none. Yet here she is playing it through in her head not knowing what to do with the last breaths she is holding. I do not know the words to reassure her. I worry that even offering to be the one to hold the dying birds will not be enough.
Sue Finch lives with her wife in North Wales. Her first published poem appeared in A New Manchester Alphabet in 2015 whilst studying for her MA with Manchester Metropolitan University. Her work has also appeared in a number of online magazines including: The Interpreter’s House, Ink, Sweat and Tears, Dear Reader, One Hand Clapping and IceFloe Press. Her debut collection, ‘Magnifying Glass’, was published in October 2020 with Black Eyes Publishing UK.
Rough Diamond Poetry 