Lost Bird Sestina
Lost Bird Sestina
Bethany Chez
I remember that day I found out about you
I was anxious to call home, not knowing why.
That day was bright, the sun sharing all its light.
Our intertwined childhoods were over. We left home
and went far enough not to visit, just phone call.
I had not taken the time to find
out what or how you were doing in light
of those questionable posts you shared.
Only now have I taken time to remember
you had typical scary things no one shared.
I don’t blame myself. Your face was always lit
up. Those outfits of yours live in my memory
carefree yet distinct. That day, I called home
because my pet bird could not be found;
he had escaped, my mother texted and so I called
her knowing she would want to share
every detail of what happened to our bird called
Reggie. She told how he flew off in broad daylight.
But I’m told, no, this is not the sad news at home:
A body, identified as yours, was found
in a car. That was the day I remembered
we could die. I had not remembered
it was possible. My bird, so far from home,
lost and hungry. After days of not being found,
they gave up walking the streets, calling
his name, replaced his cage with a lamp.
With my friends, I stopped sharing
stories of my bird. There was no hope of finding
him. Meanwhile, I started remembering
us together as four-year-olds sharing
a cup of goldfish, back when your hair was light
and then when it was dyed dark and some called
you Ruby. Then it’s finally time to go home,
back to our church, where the pastor talks about light
that cannot be overcome and hope to be called
upon. Looking at your artwork and clothes, remembering
you, I stop searching. A month later, I come home
the summer is over and my mother shares:
after giving up hope, my bird was found.
Bethany Chez
Poet
Bethany Chez is a poet living near Philadelphia. She received her M.S.Ed from the University of Pennsylvania and studied creative writing at Allegheny College. Her work has been published in ONE ART Poetry Journal and she reads slush at West Trade Review.
Photography by Beth Joiner