2 Hand Tale - Daniel P. Stokes

The nest is gone. But not

without a trace. A dirty blotch                                                    

within a crook of cable 

stands as witness.                                          

Year on year house martins                                       

on a mission swooped deftly                        

through its funnel. Our co-tenants.              

Until the usurpation.                         

A troop of sparrows,                                       

while the martins wintered, 

commandeered it.

An era of dissension had begun.                         

They screeched day-long at decibels 

beyond the legal limit,

coercing, carping, coaxing.         

Luring from the nest

is mortal combat. And futile

while the ill-glimpsed world

looms tantamount to hell. At last,

of course, the fledglings flew

and peace descended. And we

had time to steel ourselves

for next year’s clutch.

The balcony is quiet this spring                 

but all the birds are elsewhere.                                

And when they paint the smudge             

and others sit here

will that arc of cable  

pass as laxness or be the clue  

that cites a two hand tale?                                 

One hand abandoned symmetry          

when it encountered                                                                    

a hub of strife and nurture.

And the other, guided                               

by demands of hygiene                       

scoured it from existence

with a spade.

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Daniel P. Stokes has published poetry widely in literary magazines in Ireland, Britain, the U.S.A. and Canada, and has won several poetry prizes. He has written three stage plays which have been professionally produced in Dublin, London and at the Edinburgh Festival.