The Panic Bird

"just flew inside my chest. Some

days it lights inside my brain,
but today it's in my bone house,
rattling ribs like a birdcage.

If I saw it coming, I'd fend it
off with machete or baseball bat.
Or grab its scrawny hackled neck,
wring it like a wet dishrag.

But it approaches from behind.
Too late I sense it at my back --
carrion, garbage, excrement.
Once inside me it preens, roosts,

vulture on a public utility pole.
Next it flaps, it cries, it glares,
it rages, it struts, it thrusts
its clacking beak into my liver,

my guts, my heart, rips off strips.
I fill with black blood, black bile.
This may last minutes or days.
Then it lifts sickle-shaped wings,

rises, is gone, leaving a residue --
foul breath, droppings, molted midnight
feathers. And life continues.
And then I'm prey to panic again."

I had todo research again to find out more about the poem we were given. The poem has to do with panic attack and birds so I used personal photos of birds to create a pattern. The old printer machines helped me to create the feeling of panic attack, because there is confusion and worry in my work. The birds I used in my work do not look like birds when you first look at them. You have to look carefully to realise that they are birds.