C. J. Opperthauser is a Michigander. His poems have appeared in Word Riot, The Orange Room Review, Temenos, and elsewhere. He likes to run and fish, and blogs at thicketsandthings.tumblr.com.
is three inches deep. Her fingernails
dirt-ridden, the girl palms the ground
back. Back with this silent bird, once
yellow and breathing, once. On the sill,
an empty cage. Still uncleaned. Still
a cage, a confiner, a trick. A thing
proclaiming yes, the world is open.
Yes, I am mostly air. Yes. Sparrow-sized,
this new cage does not lie.