Bird died at the edge of NH-22 on a national holiday by Diya Kandhari

Bird died at the edge of NH-22 on a national holiday

Diya Kandhari

Bird died on NH-22 on a national holiday and grief fluttered into an inconvenience, a sliced open pigeon wing, bruised mantle, crushed beak against asphalt; the vertebrate sticks out like flawed timing. The neighbour's children have paint on their faces; an unfinished celebration They complain about the vacuum cleaner that fell into disuse after the last death about how the house is still filthy, humidity clinging onto shelves like an omen Mother says today wasn’t the right day for death You see grandfather has lost his driving license which means mother has to drive him to and from the the highway. Bird died at the edge of NH-22 on a national holiday. Bird died on a highway no one drives upon because of the drunk civil engineer in 1940s Bird died and here we are, and mother says bird should’ve died another day Stacked up deaths are easier. The distinctness of death is what makes it painful, it’s peculiarity, of location and cause Aunty died on a hospital bed from heart disease, uncle drowned in a lake,

Mother says bird should’ve died tomorrow But tomorrow is Mimi’s ballet recital, and day after is national cookie cutter day And the day after the day after, is significant because it’s day after Bird died on NH-22 on a national holiday and grief fluttered into an inconvenience, because it was always meant to.