Preserving the Last Starling

The bird contained
within a bone-melded cage
tries to breathe:
a bubble of air rises,
a pump slowly concertinas;
water drips steadily
as anaesthesia
into a bottomless dish.
The dangling oval glass
banishes all the bird
imagined itself before.
Fluttering it climbs,
climbs to the high perch;
nestles there in the box
made for dreaming,
and the entire cage
thrums when it sings.

Published in Short Circuit