DENISE JARROTT

 

 

 

House: Attic Scene, The Birds, Alfred Hitchcock, 1963

 

Shield your face, but not
for the brightness.                 I am only asking you
                    to comply.

You are you, I am I, the line
is the line. It exists because you, it exists
because I. It exists                 the birds

cover. They know no other.
                            When it was over she was covered
in scrapes                          they covered her, they
carried her down
                                   It continued for days.

You ascend                to investigate.
                               I have no one to shoot.
If you shoot down a certain bird it
will only fall towards you. If you look

into the sun it will only look back.

It was not theater. He offered you a gold pin
with three birds ascending.

An infinite line
does not migrate, it does not
converge.

We are the theater.

We know where to find
our light. Among the slats and feathers,
they scatter.                          You're tethered
we cannot see that you
cannot see that if the birds

are the shadow that exits to
consume the house
                               what will be left of it?

What will be left of the town,
of a theater
when the screen goes dark?

Find the point on the infinite line. Look up at me                I will look back.


Denise Jarrott's work has appeared or is forthcoming in CutBank, The Volta, Gigantic Sequins, Bat City Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Colorado.