Ankles Like Ancient Birds

Vandal Poem of the Day: July 20, 2021

 by Diane Mehta

I am musing for amusements,
looking for something good.

Ancestral spirits back me up.
I am searching, and they are heaven-sent.
What is beautiful? It lasts an instant.

I hand out lists of lovers and reflections.
Someone writes me a letter in seismographic beeps.
This urn, that eclipse, a nightingale, all of it true—

I despise losing but do it masterfully.
(The dead pull on my ankles like ancient birds,
my soul, they think, in reach.)

And if sea sirens and shadow-making revelations
are stage tricks? If these are standard griefs?
from Forest with CastanetsFind more by Diane Mehta at the library
Copyright © 2018 Diane Mehta

Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.

Published in Diane Mehta Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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