I didn't choose a Poet of the Week this week. I had computer issues Monday and Tuesday, and, by Wednesday, it was too late. Any poet that I chose would have gotten only four days of poems.
Tonight, however, I want to give you a poem from the current issue of Rattle magazine. I received my copy a week or so ago, and I really fell in love with the poem below.
Saint Marty promises a new Poet of the Week will be crowned next Monday.
Until then . . .
Paper Birds Don't Fly
by: Al Ortolani
Last night I had a dream
that my father, six years
dead now, left me a message
folded into some kind of origami bird.
There was a girl in the dream,
maybe a younger sister, maybe
a little dead girl sent as a messenger.
I don't know how these things worked.
Sitting at the table with the paper birds,
she unfolded mine and began to read.
I couldn't make out a word
she was saying.
I woke in frustration, trying to will
myself back into sleep
into the dream of my father
where I was sure he'd tried
to cross over
like he had so many times
when he was living.