The panicked heart
Is pushing the shoulder,
  pushing the elbow,
     pushing that hinged down wrist,

In hopes that one swift motion
Will untangle the word ribbon
In neat short lines on yellowed paper

Those wings that scratch and claw inside the little cage
Bleeding the walls
Will break free to fly and feed.

But Monday mornings I take great care
The wrist is nailed tightly on the cross
All the pistons are jammed in just the right way
Come Friday night the ribbon won’t untangle
And the bird will give up, sometime.