Talking Through Walls

Crow says dove,
legs say shine.
They argue all day,
flight and the fine motion of walking.
Crow says rocket ship,
legs says farmer
behind a horse, sailor on the ship,
prisoners after lunch.

Their words come through
my pain, slip in and out
of walls as if walls were water.
Crows have brains,
intelligence too large
for their humble bodies.
Legs have nothing of their own,
seem disconnected from the world.
Crow says legs aren’t necessary,
just wings and a good wind
Legs say the ground is beautiful,
full of dirt and rocks,
things that crawl and slither.
They all shine in the rain.
Why would we ever want
to give that up?

Mary Christine Delea has had work recently published and upcoming in The Stickman Review, New Ohio Review, Prose Poem Project, Spillway, and many others. She is originally from Long Island and now lives in Oregon; her full-length book, The Skeleton Holding Up the Sky, was published when she was living in Kentucky. Besides working on poetry this summer, she has a new web site ( and recently returned from a trip to Las Vegas, where she met up with three friends from high school.

Mary Christine Delea