Dying Blackbird

Crippled blackbird, straddling the yellow line,
a dividing line between the living and the dead,
a sultry line, vapors rising like fleeing spirits,
winds swirling as he stumbles, wings flapping lamely
clinging madly, every flinching tendon, every strained
maddening muscle, tweaked by evolution for flight,
every hollowed bone, every minor ounce, asking
if life will out, there in desperation, dying.

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