broken birds

by Amy Turn Sharp


I wonder how many people know what the leitmotifs are in their writing? Writer's like Virginia Woolf and Chuck Palahniuk were able to capitalize on this. They pushed themes with recurring events and images, but who can be sure it was thought out and planned? I think it is all organic in nature. We write and write through a sieve. Some things catch. Some things spill. I find that I am always stuck holding the same large pieces in my hand every single time. Like game animals from a hunting day- hanging from my hands. Red. Real. This must mean something. This is what it means to write about what you know. I am dragging a broken bird. I am pulling bony leg bucks through the forest. I have a wild turkey swung over my broad shoulders. I carry all the animals of my soul to the old shed. I give them away. I open the door and they just walk out. I can't even kill them properly.

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