My mother has arrived. She’s unpacked
in my bedroom. From the bathroom I can hear
her chatting; she chirps
like a sparrow, cheerily, knowing
God cares – a bird among cats
young kittens, savage
strangers. She’s rolling bright-eyed
amidst claws, on the floor – they’ve hunted
her, caught her
pinned her wings flat; they crouch on her
chest and guard her 
for me, the arch-predator – for my
approval
keeping her prone, they keep this place ours
denying
safe house to the light speckled alien
refugee: a sparrow, fallen
who helplessly laughs