by Stan Rubin
I will wait all morning
until the magpie
finally breaks through the glass
on its twenty-fifth try
or twenty-eighth, who knows
how many there’ve been,
bird attacking glass
again and again
just because he sees
his own reflection
and mistakes it for a mate.
But he’s magnificent
in the persistence of his illusion.
Fucking bird.
Stan Sanvel Rubin’s poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Agni, The Georgia Review, One, Poetry Northwest, and most recently, Tar River Poetry, Eight Poems, 2 River, Into the Void, Sextant Review and others. His four full-length collections include There. Here. (Lost Horse Press) and Hidden Sequel (Barrow Street Book Prize). A retired NY state educator, he lives on the north Olympic Peninsula of Washington state.