nestlings

as kids, our father told us if we could catch a bird
we could keep it as a pet. 
this is exactly how i feel about gender.
like running in the meadow by the corn fields
chasing after crows & doves. my brother calls me
to tell me he is stitching back on his face.
lately we talk about girls on the phone just about
every single day. i want to tell him,
"have you considered that you might be
chasing birds?" instead, i listen. he talks about
letting his lungs turn into moth nests.
all the wings coming from his mouth.
he buys a flower bag. he talks about wanting
to paint his nails. he tells a girl he likes her & she does not
return the feeling. i am driving on the highway
with the phone on speaker. at a stoplight,
i notice the telephone wires are covered with birds.
all kinds of birds. herons & ostriches &
cardinals & plovers. some of those birds i know
don't belong up there. feathers fall.
he says he does not know what to do with
his hands anymore. i get home. i do not want
to let him go. i consider reminding him
what it was like to try & catch a bird.
there was once when we found one robin too young
to really get off the ground. we could 
have grabbed him. bald patches. tufts of down.
instead, we stopped & witnessed. he finally managed
to get into the air & back up into the tree.
i don't know what kind of birds we are anymore.
i want to tell him there are never 
enough hands to answer this. still, we are all
running. we always think we're closer than we are.