BIRD IN THE HOUSE
Ken Cathers

you know what
it means
she said

&  I knew, could
hear panic
spiral up

her voice
a bird trapped
by this unexpected

openness, promise
of new skies.

why, she said,
almost breathless
not even a question

just a noise
to keep those wings
away, torn feathers

molten in sunlight
as the bird crashes
against the inside

of windows, the
reflection of
other worlds.

not sure
what kind of dance
I have stumbled into

not part of this
self-winding
synchronicity of

woman & wild finch,
chase & run, every move   
misconstrued

hysteria wound
to the very pitch
where the spring breaks

& it means death
of course, a bird
in the house, every

thing falls apart:
feathers, glass
& wings broken.

another wives’ tale
deconstructed. . .

no escape
from what we
live inside of

the held breath
twisting into words
music. such a

small chaos of
wings   desperate
to be free


Ken Cathers was born (1951) and raised in Ladysmith on Vancouver Island. Has A B.A. from the University of Victoria and a M.A. from York University in Toronto. Was a senior Pulp Operator at Harmac Pacific Pulp Mill on Vancouver Island .

Has been published in numerous periodicals, anthologies as well as six books of poetry, most recently Missing Pieces on Ekstasis Press. Married since 1971 to his wife Inge. Has two sons, Jason and Devon, and three grandchildren. As well as his continued interest in contemporary fiction and poetry written in English he fills up his time with cycling, drumming and travel.