a neighborhood catelog of fears

someone is digging a grave
with a plastic sand shovel.
the death toll of birds on my block 
has climbed from six to eight today.
i found a tiny bird with its legs
poised in the air like tiny crooked flag polls. 
it is march which means all the lions i know
are hungry. i am afraid of meat
especially ground beef but i buy some anyway
to keep the lions satisfied.
i am usually only capable 
of over coming a fear if its for someone else.
sometimes i wonder if i will ever
leave this country. today, thousands of planes 
criss cross the sky leaving stretch marks 
on the blue dome. 
i try to imagine cows growing on trees
or the beef being harvested from the ground 
in all its pink tendrils.
everything is a plant if you change
the definition of plant. 
i too was once a trembling seed 
waiting for water. the soil here
is not fit for a field or even a garden.
i make a necklace of golden corn kernels.
a grave in the sand would be
a bad idea. the next strong rain 
the casket would be unearth.
wooden slick with water. i want
to be burried in the sand. 
what does that say about me?
if we're talking about fear,
i am also afraid of being touched
by a bird. sometimes they flutter 
from their perches like feathered asterisks. 
i don't know exactly what it is.
maybe that they are so fragile. 
i took one of my bones 
& hollowed it out in solidarity
using an espresso spoon.
all my friends have rational dreams
& here i am wanting to ressurect 
a small soft bird & here i am 
whistling at train as it rolls by again.
if just one bird came back to life 
i would go first to Spain 
& then to Ireland. then again, i enjoy
the idealized versions i have in my head.
i can visit a memory any time i want
without a passport. under great stress
i forget my name & write my mother's
as if to ask her to come save me.
the lion arrives & i lay completely still
which is the only way to survive
both lions & wars. how long
can you hold your breath?