I’ve had dreams like this. Dreams where
I sit at the office, ask out loud
should we have comments
on non-attributes? and scrutinize
the work of teammates, fail to notice
that the spreadsheet stalled in front of me
is pushing feathers out, a white tip
from every row, and my boss turns right
to tell me no when suddenly
a black-and-brown checked bird,
still accented with white cells,
peels like an old cling-on off
my monitor, rests flush on my desk
for a blink – it breathes its body into
three dimensions before I can
grasp what’s happening. A bird
was in Excel? It hops onto its feet with ease.
It steadies just a bit then stretches out
its wings and gives some trial flaps. Then
all confidence, it rises off my desk and flies
for an open window in a line too straight
for a normal bird to fly. And I also swear
last week that that window wasn’t there.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 1.
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