Beating of a Bird

Coocoo Clock

The cuckoo clock strikes twelve
and the birds fly out.
Streams of red
trail behind them.

Midnight hour brings more horrors
and they cough up their lungs
and force their calls to wake
any unfortunate soul that happens to hear
the sounds that pass their tongues.

Cuckoo, cuckoo,
the birds scream--
Mocking me

Then they go back in for the night
huddling in the shivering clock,
waiting for day to strike again.
He lays dead with a hope of flying.
He twitches with a lust for life.