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The cormorant inside my head
peers at the one in my heart.
It shakes its beak,
gestures with its wings
that its time to open, to fly.
The cormorant inside my heart
calls back: Run, but a cormorant
cant run. Hide, it calls,
but such a bird cant hide.
Fight. It flexes its wings wide.
The Moth is a beautiful creature. David Mitchell
No other magazine like it. Billy Collins
A rare literary gem. Dermot Healy
The Moth is an amazing magazine. Donal Ryan