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/.