the magpie

I drove hard
and as fast
as I could.
back to an empty home
where boxes sat unpacked
filling my room
from edge to edge,
sitting and waiting
in packing tape
to tip and spill over.

140 km/hr.
the truck ahead escapes my gaze
as a small magpie
screams
wings flattened to the pavement
as it mind tries to escape it
and fails.

I contemplate turning back
to finish the job
but instead cry for an hour
and cross the threshold to our home.

we've moved since then,
but the tape remains on the boxes,
and I can still hear those silent screams.