“EAR BIRD” by Aliza Saper
The crows are starting to congregate outside my window in the mornings;
just like they did when you loved me.
I hated them then, for they always woke me from the sweetest slumbers.
I hate them now for the way they chatter on about us, still.
I’m starting to think I was wrong about this place.
About staying here forever.
Memories are the nastiest of stains, and this place has stains of all kinds
from a lifetime of living here.
Together the stains are an inkblot test, and at every angle, every orientation, all I see is you.
Today I am in the dark place.
The place where the air feels like it did when I was happy, but I can’t breathe it.
The place where the ghost of you holds me tighter than your flesh ever did.
Where the crow’s calls ring in my ears long after they’ve departed from the telephone wire.
Don’t you ever wonder if we miss each other at the same time?
Don’t you want a scoop of Swiss Miss in your coffee?
Don’t you want to just lay down forever?
I have tried to touch the language of nostalgia for a very long time with very little success.
But, oh, how nostalgia has touched me, and not kindly for that matter.
Is it not the most dismal experience that exists?
Don’t you think the crows are working on a secret plan to fly to the moon?
Or when they’re yelling, are they just coveting for the lives they had one season ago?
I think I’d like to be a crow either way.
Just so long as I’m not plagued with the disorder of remembering you.
About Aliza Saper
She/Her/Hers
Aliza Saper (she/her) is an original Denverite, and a wearer of many creative hats. Her work has recently been published by South Broadway Ghost Society. She is the winner of the 29th Paul Rice Poetry Broadside Series Contest, and was also a 2018 National Poetry Slam qualifier. Her affinity for self-expression, and meaning-making has led her to pursue endeavors in storytelling via the visual, literary, and performing arts. Follow her on Instagram: @aliza_lynn.