Poet’s Notes: I’ve spent the last few months reading hundreds of poems on birds, in response to our latest anthology project, Poeming Pigeons. It has proven to be effective therapy in conquering my own life-long fear of birds, which has recently morphed into more of a delightful obsession with the magical winged creatures than fear. Many of poems submitted reflect on the sometimes-obsessive hobby of bird watching. I couldn’t help but wonder what if the tables were turned, and why do we as humans have such an incessant need to classify everything around us and each other?
Editor’s Note: I like the humorous way that the poet turns bird watching on its head and the way the last minute turn hammers home her poetic conceit--a poem about birds become a poem about race and sex.