transom

it is this man
looking in his empty mailbox
for bits of skin and teeth
folded up on paper
skin he can touch
teeth he can feel
clamping down tightly
on his collarbones

he pretends to pull the letter
from the box
tears it open
and holds it in his hands
unfolding it slowly
creasing the folds backwards
so it lays flat
but as he tries to read it
he sees only his hands
held out in the air
in front of him
trying to feel the weight
of the paper
they are supposed to be holding

his hands become agitated
pretending to fold and unfold
and trace lines across a page
that isnt there
they move so quickly
with such force
that the man realizes
they are no longer his hands
they are wild birds
tearing themselves from
the ends of his arms
and flying though the transom
over the front door of his building

the birds fly north
loud and black
with wings the wrong size
for their bodies
and the man rushes outside
after them
shouting directions to them
an address in minneapolis
a name
and something else
that by now
they are too far away
to understand.