by Cynthia Knorr
A jay stares at the window
aggrieved by the pesky squatter
behind the glass who won’t withdraw.
One beady black dinosaur eye
stares at the other.
Two open beaks caw for war.
This is my territory, my seed
then the other—
I won’t back off until you do
prompting outstretched claws
flared blue feathers
a synchronized frontal attack
that fails and fails again until
exhaustion demands a truce
that will last until it is broken.
Why fight ourselves, I think, when
we are often the only friend we have.
A weekend visitor from New York for many years, Cynthia Knorr has lived full-time in New Hampshire since 2012. Her poems have appeared in Adanna, The Aurorean, Café Review, Shot Glass Journal, Healing Muse, The Main Street Rag, and others. She was awarded First Prize in both the Poetry Society of New Hampshire’s national and members’ contests. Her chapbook A Vessel of Furious Resolve will be published by Finishing Line Press in May 2019.