Julia Sholl
a bird flies into my window 
pane and breaks 
its fragile neck.

it crumples in a heap,
crushed like a can
on the cement.

its gentle beak
into a broken prayer and

its feathers mangle
like a smile
warped into fear

as it contemplates
the foggy sky
now packed with truths

once hidden
in dark closets
of bigoted excuses.