Mild Persistent Asthma
David B. Prather

Three pairs of sparrows nest in the word
pharmacy,       those lower case a’s in the sign

on the side       wall of the 7th Street CVS.
I wait for my love       to finish searching
those       drugstore aisles to find an elixir

to keep air flowing through his       lungs.
But I’ve been       blessed with ravens

for respiration, sometimes       kestrels,
sometimes crows. Last       year, robins
nested on       the bend of my neighbor’s

downspout. My apple       tree bronchioled
close as       though wanting to sigh and hold

this handful. And a bird I       never saw
kept trying to        weave twigs and grasses
on top of my porch light. It       took a week

of discouragement, days       of pulling
that tangle apart. I regret the impulse

for destruction as I       watch these birds flit
and fling       themselves from the safety
of those letters mounted       high

on a brick       façade. They may not
come back next       year. If they do,

I will tell my       love, remember
how we took a       breath together,
how it was meant to       fledge and fly.

---

David B. Prather’s Comments

This poem is intrinsically tied to those sparrows, which have always carried omens. And this portent is about breath. I was inspired to create gaps within the lines to mimic shortness of breath, and the quickness of those little birds flitting about.

Table of Contents