the urban animal runs free

the urban animal runs free.

through gutters, alleys, and timbering trees.

she sits atop shopping carts

waiting

and then dashes for

dropped crumbs

that we don’t know

we’ve lost.

up ahead of the creek.

a chipmunk.

a small thin frame

lined with slick brown fur

a white stripe along the spine.

but now, a spine pressed down

by my bike tire.

down by the river.

a fierce white bald eagle.

smoldering wing span.

her gust thrashes against my face.

i look down to the banks of the river

only wicked wires and waste.

there is no place to make a home.

down in the garden.

a worm.

small but gracefully erect.

digging up the soil

i pull out bricks and leaves

while she looks up at me

with a quiet plea.

a home now gone.

thrown in a plastic bag by the garbage can.

over in the bushes.

a mole.

rugged brown hair with a slight wobble.

she darts past my crouched knees.

i tremble.

at home that i am now removing.

the untimely death

the absence of a home

the removal of your resting place

this is the real cage.

no locked doors. no feeding schedules.

it is a cage i have made.

even if the urban animal runs free.