#179 Paloma Negra by Byron Aspaas

Looking through the looking glass the glass that shields
me from wind from rain from clouded sun poor bird
looking through the looking glass looking back at me stands
the statuesque strange stoic bird an empty hole where
its heart once beat poor strange bird a hole in its heart
holding heads connected to its feathers connected to its
shoulders staring back at me eight pounds on each fin
two heads swinging smiling poor empty strange bird
weighted down with nowhere to fly standing cold as
stone alone in mold near billows of smoke circling and
swirling processed scents of stale tobacco hollow
prayers poor empty weighted strange bird stares glares
looking at me through me judging you judging me
where I sit protected behind the looking glass poor cold
empty weighted strange bird odd shaped head
unfamiliar body shivering squeaking alone weighted
with stone prayers molded looking through the looking
glass the glass that shields me inside the glare behind
oily smudges reflect appear blank statuesque stoic
strange
me.

Byron Aspaas (Diné) is Tachiiníí and born for Todichííníí.  Currently a creative writing student at the Institute of American Indian Arts, Byron writes poetry and creative nonfiction.  His ambition is to become a teacher, a writer, and most importantly a storyteller. He resides with his partner, Seth Browder, in Santa Fe, NM


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