Todd Pederson
In Flight
from a window you count birds or
try to like
japanese fabric
each wing see
through a blur a
signal a
gesture &
it’s simple enough to miss this
twisty depiction how
they all at once
disperse vanish into
these tall intervals into
time dividing
buildings moving through
the margins
into the unseen
spaces ghostwritten
profiles held aloft
momentary they dangle
in the middle
air contrails
imaginary patterns with no
perimeter without
intent birds who
scatter the second everything takes
another turn at age
& purpose & as
these precursors all speed up still
they bank &
speak amid
this glassy
wilderness no don’t
take your eyes away another
morning now withdraws as you watch dawn
& larks
in flight resolve the ways everything darts
into the city makes
its quick
charcoal
departure & you
before this window
ought to say something talk
call back
an echo
that undoes your lamé
of farewells
nothing important just
one
small bird or two
Todd Pederson is the poetry editor of Sleet Magazine.