For awhile I've had this bird bound by my rib cage;
A quiet little sparrow confined in my torso.
Once, always covered, there was no day and night distinguished
---Left alone with its silent song in between slumber.
Occasionally the night owl would come giving the time of day,
Cooing and hooting quietly through the sheathed bones,
Drunk on mice and its own sense of self-satisfaction.
The owl was the sparrow's only visitor (I was an absent landlord),
But one day it stopped coming, telling the time, cooing and hooting.
So the solitary sparrow sang sorrowfully,
Drawing my ear, pleading to unlock this cage.
So I removed the sheath, and loosened these bones,
Now, this bird has its plumage on display.
It can come and go as it pleases;
Flying freely, traveling with ease.
Hunting for bugs and seed,
Or perhaps some more twigs to strengthen its nest
Formed already between my two lungs, breath stolen.
Finally, in your Sun's brilliance, this bird's aflutter.