THE BLUEBIRDS

by Katherine West

There were footprints

All the way down the mountain

Starting at the abandoned mine

But leaving the old road

To follow deer paths

Through avenues

Of juniper and pine

They seemed the right size

So I placed my foot in one

Like Cinderella’s slipper

To see if it would fit

To see what I would find

If I followed it

Even the space between steps

Was so well-measured

I nearly danced

Through the forest

A kind of Inca Trail

Step onto it

And the way

Becomes easy

As if I wore magic

Red shoes

That guided me

That pulled me

Drew me on

And through

A silk thread

Through the eye

Of its needle

Needle through cloth

Thin as gauze

On and on

Thoughtless

As bluebirds

Eating moths

The sun following

Their sudden

Color

As if in love

I flew

Something old

Something new

I arrived

At the red cabin

Dusty footprints

Across the floor

To a table

By a window

Paper

Pencil

A chair

No bears

No dwarves

No witches

Just a house

Like a glove

A mind

Like a glove

Dropped on the floor

By the back door

A drop of blood

On the step

A dry well

A grave

Without a name

A Siamese cat

A bit of trash

And those bluebirds

Like sisters

Turned to swans

Waiting for me

To tell their story

* * * * *

Katherine West lives in Southwest New Mexico, near the Gila Wilderness, where she writes poetry about the soul-importance of wilderness and performs it with her musician husband, Yaakov. She has written three collections of poetry: The Bone Train, Scimitar Dreams, and Riddle, as well as one novel, Lion Tamer. Her poetry has appeared in journals such as Lalitamba, Bombay Gin, and New Verse News, which recently nominated her poem And Then the Sky for a Pushcart Prize.