my first murder
was by water
when I let them drown
the bird
fallen from its nest
and rescued, caged
safe in our backyard
the other children
who ignored me, shut me out of games
now circled me
now paid attention
can we touch it?
can we take it
out?
at last I felt
important
and respected
as hands that grasped
its fragile feathers
filled a cup
it needs a bath
is that okay?
and yes I said to everything
until the eyes
were membrane-covered
gaping beak
wings dripping on the grass
my first time watching
something die
that I had killed
the children left
and didn’t speak to me again…
would I have stopped this
if I’d known
or smiled and nodded anyway
as I’ve done often,
hoping?
a line of corpses strewn
behind—
when will
I learn?
The First
