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.
![](https://nycbigcitylit.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/Stan-Rubin.jpeg)
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.