Magdalena’s response to “Is this the Azure Kingfisher”


Białowieża Forest, primeval

weaving dark foliage 

through her dreams.

There were no words for the smell

or feel of soft moss on a fallen trunk.

It lived nowhere now

except her childhood

which was not a place

or even a time anymore

lost in a humectant bubble


Nothing could be more permanent

than something lost

the Azure Tit she once found

its tiny white belly

still warm

the soft blue of the wings.

They don’t make blue like that anymore

The ghosts of bison and elk,

wild boar, hovered in her memory

like the emperor oak, fallen

damp bark beneath her feet.

Here there was no bark, no soft crunch,

only concrete. 

The high pitched dee dee dee

of the Tit’s song

replaced by tram clank and train rumble

children yelling

a continuous murmur

through the urgent motion 

of present tense

like a small bird, drawing her back. 

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