BOY AND BIRD by Dr. Rienzi Crusz On Galle Face Green, promenade that stares with a thousand black eyes at the Indian Sea, I fly the red owl with ochre beak, my kite

balanced and engineered on this bamboo bones. Blue ozone

shovels my hair, fills up my lungs like a red sail, lifts my delicate dream over a bank of cloud. Still

and staring on its blue sky tree, my owl

sends messages like Wakamba telegraph on the pulsing twine, tugs to soar into moon country. O owl bird, I have no way to feed your dream beyond the sky-line: a shaking old man has cut my dream, your wings to a meticulous ounce of nylon thread, pinned my feet to soft grass, crowded my eyes with a forest of probing faces and warns: soon the sun will sag behind your back, like wind flag like the muscles you'll wear by evening. with acknowledgement to Avarry, by permission of the author. Rienzi Crusz was born in Sri Lanka, and immigrated to Canada in 1965; He has a B.A. from the University of Ceylon, a B.L.S. from the University of Toronto, and an M.A. from Waterloo.

This article was originally published in Cross Cultures Magazine in Volume 1 - Issue 3 - 1992. Unauthorized copying, distribution or other usage without express written permission of the publisher is prohibited.