XXXI. There Is Stoning and There Is Birding and There Is.
- Charlene Iris
- Dec 10, 2025
- 2 min read
Updated: Dec 11, 2025
Note: This poem may appear misaligned on mobile devices.
Two birds, one stone.
Efficiency's boast.
Two stones, one bird.
Overkill at most.
To stone a bird…
A biblical crime—
Little Larry asks
why we say kill two birds
when we'd never actually
kill birds.
I tell him it's just an expression.
Larry asks what we're expressing.
One bird, two words:
killed and time.
Stone-cold birder with binoculars raised.
Bird-brained stoner perpetually blazed.
There is stoning and there is birding and there is—
Two birds, one stone:
the economy we worship.
Two stones, one bird:
the truth of how we aim.
Father taught me to skip stones:
how to feel the weight,
find the flat side,
let the wrist loosen
to make one touch water five times
before sinking.
Never mentioned birds.
Bird versus stone:
the oldest of feuds.
To stone a bird is to forget
you were also made of flight once,
before you learned to carry
pebbles in your fists,
before proverb,
before idiom,
before the language
that should make us weep.
One and two and bird and stone and
stone and bird and two and one and...
I was never good with numbers.
Keep forgetting what comes after one.
Keep thinking two means twice,
means again,
means more,
when really two just means
you already lost count
of the first.
Two birds, one stone…
Tonight I'll go home with two stones
still in my pocket,
worrying small moons in the lining.
One bird still punctuating the sky
with its completely intact life.
Tomorrow, someone will ask
what I accomplished.
I'll lie.
Or tell the truth.
I'm not sure which is which anymore.
For what it’s worth,
-Charlene Iris



Comments