What Kind of Miracles

I want to believe in miracles 

I say, spilling sad energy everywhere 

but all the birds are fighting over wet bread in the parking lot 

What kind of miracles? 

You ask, dutifully 

The kind that escapes like smoke the moment you notice it 

Leaving the air stuffy with expectation, a shortness of breath 

And maybe a dry cough 


You reply, barely listening, as you doodle in the margins of a book 

awkward little stars (their five points in disarray) 

forming a linear galaxy in which you wish to escape 

What even counts as a miracle? 

Maybe the birds having a piece of wet bread each? 

Perhaps they’ll stop fighting 

Or maybe, tonight, there will be a sudden meteor shower 

And we can both make a wish that will (miraculously) come true 

[a mountain of dark clouds rumbles in the distance]

What would you wish for? 

A retirement plan 

What about you? 

[a flicker of light]

For the birds to have something more nutritious than wet bread 

[a loud CLAP]

The two look up as the atmosphere tightens

Electrified and eager

A heavy shadow over their world in the parking lot

The birds scatter and so do they

Each little animal for themselves

They find shelter and notice

How the fat droplets catch

The passing beam of headlights

(Almost) like falling stars

So they hang their heads in reverence

And wish for something else

Jessica Miku is an artist based in Te Whanganui-a-Tara. You can find them petting cats at the SPCA or at their art studio working on their upcoming show at Meanwhile Gallery.