Kelly Nelson

COWBIRD

When Daddy shot the cowbird
he meant to miss. It was the first thing

I’d seen alive and then dead
(all our meals came pre-killed)

We crept towards it, shaken Dad, poodle dog, sister one
and sister two. There was no blood, the BB hole
too small to see. It looked like a bird, a very     still      bird.

Being girls we buried it, placed flowers, sang a song we knew from church.

Do you want to see him before the cremation
our mother asked. There’d be no blood. No hole
left by radiation. I don’t remember
how me-at-twelve decided
but I said         no.
The Navy strewed him
at sea. Being girls
we didn’t bury him        didn’t pick flowers
and by then, church songs             were out.

Author Bio

Kelly Nelson lives in Tempe, Arizona. Her poems have appeared in Bellowing Ark and Blue Guitar and are forthcoming in nibble and Sandcutters. She’s been nominated for a Pushcart and teaches at Arizona State University.