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Wingspan
New South, Issue 10.1
2017
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… The scene was too familiar. The wooden silhouettes of birds were glued side-by-side, from smallest to largest, against a cement wall painted like sky. Their heads were in profile, their wings flung wide, like old men turning to look at one another, reaching for one another’s hands. Their wingspan measurements were engraved on brass plaques at their feet.
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Josef remembered tracing these very birds’ bodies in raw wood with his small fingers, years ago, when they were fresh-carved, before his father had sealed them and painted them to life.
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Short List: Bath Flash Fiction Award (as “Animals”), 2015
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