After Dinner Myth by Douglas Thiele

Doing the dishes I drop a plate
(my hands became feathers
at just the wrong moment)
but the window is closed
so try as I might I can’t escape.

Any self-respecting crow
would beat against the pane
but I watch the detergent
slowly change my wings
back into my familiar hands.

What are you crying for
she says; it’s just a plate.

I want to tell her about
my wings and the chance
I just lost but then she says
Oh never mind. Here
I’ll help you clean it up

As she stands back up
wet shards in hand
the window is open
screen all busted out

Now where did he go
I hear her mutter as I
catch the evening thermal
clear the backyard pines.


Doug Thiele divides his creative life between music and the written word and is the recipient of many awards in both fields. His poetry, short stories and essays have been published in a variety of media from Evergreen Review to The Taj Mahal Review in India. His lyrics have been recorded and performed by such disparate artists as The Westminster Boys Choir and Dolly Parton. He teaches Composition and Creative Writing in Hampton Roads, Virginia where he lives with his wife and two grandsons.

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