autopsy on a blue jay

the birds dropped from the sky 
like purses, spilling outside,
the sound of feathers on pavement
(if that makes a sound).

i collected them: the cardinals
the robins, the swallows,
& the blue jay, stacked them
all on a crystal plate
to investigate what's ailing them.

with the fabric scissors
i cut them apart, even though
my mother warned me 
not to play with dead things.

first the cardinal, full
of black & blue wires-- 
spitting electric at me,
i look for a plug to maybe
recharge the animal, but there
doesn't seem to be one.

the swallow came apart easier,
Velcro was all that held his
chest together. i pried gently
so that the collection of 
stolen keys from inside didn't 
fall out. i tried them all
in my front door, thinking
that might revive him.

i had to do the robins 
mid-day when no one would
notice the loud classical music
pouring out of the every incision.
i fill balloons with the songs
& send them out the apartment window
for someone to find. 

the last one was the blue jay,
i remembered him from the fence
outside, the tilt of his head
& his chipper pacing.
i thought about how similar 
we were, be up so early
watching nothing.

still on the crystal plate
i hesitate because
i don't want to know what's
inside the blue jay.

i imagine him full of 
gumballs & engagement rings.
full of thimbles or 
blue ring-pops. 

i open the bird from the zipper
on his spine.
he's the inside of my mother's
purse. i remember it well
from stealing quarters as a kid.
the check book, the bank envelope,
the gift cards to the Peanut Bar,
the swishy tan lining & the black
wide-toothed hair clip. 

i steal two quarters
& put them in my pocket which
instantly causes the bird starts 
thrashing again. 
zipping him up quick i throw
open the window & the blue jay 
goes back outside
to pace the fence.

i think what's happening 
to the birds has to do with me, 
i see them on the ground
everywhere & i wonder what 
they're all filled with.
are they that susceptible 
to nostalgia? i should
have been more careful
dreaming alone in my bed. 

when i see you tomorrow
i will tell you about the
blue jay, because you like
him too. if you don't believe
me that's alright, i'll lay
you down on the crystal 
plate & show you what kinds
of trinkets you've filled 
yourself with over all 
these years.