Poems by Rebecca Martin
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The Girl at the Door
by Rebecca Martin
From Canary Spring 2024
Rebecca lives just outside a small Virginia city poised on the edge of the James River, whose waters run all the way down to the Chesapeake Bay. The four-hour drive from her house to the Chesapeake side of the Eastern Shore feels like coming home.
holds a sparrow
in her hands
the body cupped only
the head visible and still with
no undue wonder
in her eyes just a message:
I rescued a bird (from
our scrappy runt cat who
stalks for play
which we hate while also holding
that strange little feline with
our whole fragile selves)
I have a bird right
here in my hands my
daughter in the half open
door and I don’t think
to worry if the bird will free
itself and fly through the house.
Her sister across the room
and I look each other in the eye
and laugh disbelieving
this girl cupping
a sparrow safe as though why
ever not? Can you feel its heart
beating? I say. Is it very
fast?
She nods.
Yes.
© Rebecca Martin