Father’s Nest

What the magpie knows: its bones,

hollowed for flight, its collarbone,

fused for stability.

Her collarbone showed off

pearls, jade, the coral necklace from Florence.

Their strands are buried here,

my mother, long gone. I flew

down the stairs when I was a child.

He slipped a few steps

covered in leaves and ice. He hit his head.

He is not a bird.