The Bird in My Ribcage

     The bird  
in my ribcage
like a heart.      

It dances,
pecking the fig
in my throat. 

The wild-weeds
and vines
to my spine
are its nesting place.

It drinks
          from the well
                    of my womb. 


I am forgetful as a stone. 

These scars
of unknown origin—
I cannot recall

what I have given
what has been 
given to me, 

or why I am     in the world
even as I make a path 
to dying. 

Clare L. Martin
is a poet/mother/wife, a graduate of the University of Louisiana at Lafayette and lifelong Louisiana resident. Clare’s creative writing has appeared in Avatar Review, Poets and Artists, Blue Fifth Review, Referential Magazine, Scythe, and Literary Mama, among others. Her poems have been included in the anthologies: The Red Room: Writings from Press 1, Best of Farmhouse Magazine Vol. 1, and Beyond Katrina.  Her work has been nominated for Dzanc Books’ Best of the Web for 2011, and previously for Best New Poets and Sundress Publication’s Best of the Net.

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