C. J. Opperthauser is a Michigander. His poems have appeared in Word Riot, The Orange Room Review, Temenos, and elsewhere. He likes to run and fish, and blogs at thicketsandthings.tumblr.com.
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is three inches deep. Her fingernails
dirt-ridden, the girl palms the ground
back. Back with this silent bird, once
yellow and breathing, once. On the sill,
an empty cage. Still uncleaned. Still
a cage, a confiner, a trick. A thing
proclaiming yes, the world is open.
Yes, I am mostly air. Yes. Sparrow-sized,
this new cage does not lie.