Christine Murray: bind

if there are birds here
then they are of stone

draught of birds / flesh bone wing
claw in grass

rilled etch gathers to her nets
dust and fire / tree-step (again)

bird claw impinge and lift.

surely light would retain in
silica’s cast or flaw?

Published 2012. The bird lifts itself out of stone; but the poem resists conclusion or conviction.