How Small

How small could I be?

How little is small.

Thirteen blackbirds

are looking at me

for twelve months straight,

twenty hours a day,

three hundred and six five

days in the past year.

At my window the sing.

I punch right through

the glass to make them

fly away singing. How

small could they be?

Those black little wings.

Their songs are poison.

They mean nothing to me