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Click hereIts head against the pane, its body crooked,
Behind some books I found a broken bird
That must have made its way inside before
The classroom's vacuum when nobody heard
The rush of wings when, all the pupils gone,
It desperately tried to reach blue skies,
Nor the dull impact as it hit the glass
And thudded on the sill to its demise.
I don't recognize the form either (I know, I should), but it's reminiscent of Dickenson to me. Not sure if I like the break and the capitalizing of "The" as it breaks the sentence to me, but maybe it's a metric requirement?
I like your restraint in what could easily get bathetic. I can hear that horrible sad thud at the end.
Poor birdie. Like what you have done with rhyme and sound in this. It may well be a form that I cannot name, but whatever it is I like it. I have to say, though, a title like that one on Lit is bound to be misinterpreted - I was almost expecting something about tasseled nipple clips! (smile).