Anna Ryan-Punch


Turn the world into birds
fleeting glimpses of feathers.
Grey-sneakered tennis feet
cut off from legs by the fence
surprise waltzing pigeons.
Bus overtaken by a cyclist
bodiless black helmet skims the window
Rorschach low-flying crow.
Winged delusions ruffle my ease
confirm each birdless event
test out a new-stitched world
the wound verifies ornithology.
Reel in the top of a hill
where trees scroll into shot
grown tall under power lines
middle branches hastily excised.
Curved limbs straddle electric tightropes
balanced flightless silhouette
ungodly with clipped wings.

Anna Ryan-Punch lives in Melbourne. Her work has appeared previously in a number of Australian publications.
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