wet and newly hatched
after scratching to break out of the blue-
green shell can't go back once it's cracked
into the walls she felt safe and well. Pushed out

of the twigs and grass of nest
before her little wings can fly. We're all
born to die. This world is big and scary with
creatures sharp and hairy waiting to gobble her

skin, bones and all. And spit her out
in pellets like overzealous zealots. She can't
crawl back inside the shell. It fell from
the tree and broke into pieces. Just like feces

it stinks in the air and light. And beady-eyed
clawed feet roam the grounds at night
searching for a spotted bobbing robin with
wings held down so tight.