Candice M. Kelsey

Contrapuntal Where I Conflate My Late Aunt with My Therapist

 

gray hairs converse with the brown                                 squirrels and cardinals vie for seed

 

an aunt’s obsession with birds grows with the cancer in her bones

 

someone trained us to be ashamed     of our bodies     videos of hummingbirds and blue jays

 

on good days she’d text          feathers of joy 

 

did you know their bones are hollow              when she passed, the birds didn’t know

 

a flock of daughters emptied              her apartment but left the birdfeeders

 

what do we have but tiny hopes                     bird. bord. bard.                          words like birdseed

 

my therapist and I fill                         telehealth birdfeeders             tiny hopes litter the screen

 

but insecurity hides in my bones                                she says you deserve freedom and peace

 

I search my therapist’s name in Gmail

 

find the fifteen-month pattern of us         soothing feathers           how Google highlights yellow

 

like Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s                                   wallpaper or the yellow-breasted chat

 

I miss my aunt                                    see her in my therapist                             need them both

 

chat’s a funny word for a bird            linguists call the ch unvoiced

 

I pluck the gray from my head                                               tired of this body’s conversation

 

cancel tonight’s session                      so much self-hatred                 don’t want to hear myself talk

 

unvoice myself            at her suggestion         we meet in person

 

too heavy for a hanging feeder                            I build a standing feeder in the shape of a poem

 

safe I consider landing                        I am gray squirrel                               they are brown bird

           

    if my aunt could capture it on her phone           she would          text today is a good day

 

 

 

CANDICE M. KELSEY [she/her] is a poet, essayist, and educator living in both Los Angeles and Georgia. A finalist for a Best Microfiction 2023, she is the author of seven books; her latest chapbook POSTCARDS from the MASTHEAD has just been released with boats against the current. She mentors an incarcerated writer through PEN America and reads for The Los Angeles Review. Please find her at https://www.candicemkelseypoet.com/.