Walking on a Path by Fisher Creek, I Flushed a Flock of Doves

Abstract

Walking on a Path by Fisher Creek, I Flushed a Flock of Doves Jesse Bertron (bio) I flushed that flock of doves three times.An hour's worth of wingbeats in a rushand then a rush and then a rush. Canoeing the San Marcos late last monthI startled the same heron around every bend for miles.I don't know why the congress of his bloodcould not resolve to leave the path I took. I don't know why he kept exploding from the bankwith the whoosh of roman candles,his wings flapping like an unzipped coatabove his skinny legs. Once, at the end of a party,Big John asked a woman sleeping on a couchto dance. That's what these birds are like. They keep on finding me,here in the deep woods,where I was told there was an old unleavened stillnessthat would allow me to considermy many griefs in peace. [End Page 567] I want to do better, when I describe those doves.I want to say that those birds prove you cannot disappear:that even when you think that you have slippedunder the forest's tongue, you can still trip the triggerof a covey's wild alarm. And for the heron I am looking for a wordlike exploded, for how the heron left the bank:but the word I'm looking for has been washed of the claimthat what explodes is somethingthat could have been disarmed. [End Page 568] Jesse Bertron jesse bertron is a plumber's helper living in Austin, TX. He has an MFA from Vanderbilt University and serves as co-director of poetry at Round Top, an annual poetry festival in Central Texas. His work has been published or is forthcoming in Rattle and Ruminate, among others. Copyright © 2019 The Massachusetts Review, Inc.