By Thomas Caterer
The bird in the cage does not sing
The gaoler’s claws scrape the bars
they want to elicit a tune
their anger rises, for they see the bird
as a possession, a thing
not a living being
The gaoler know others have heard its song
when it flew from tree to tree
The gaoler is full of anger and envy
they reach for the scissors
they’ll teach that ungrateful bird a lesson
that little shit will pay
The cage door opens
The claws reach in
The bird shoots out to freedom
The claws swipe uselessly
slashing at air
The uncaged bird flies free
it’s overjoyed to find its wings are unclipped
despite the gaoler’s attempts
it takes to the skies
it sings its song
which the gaoler will never hear
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