Found a dead bird on the rented back porch on Rice Lake.
Found it. Not encountered it. More like: glad we did not
not see it. It looked taxidermied, intentional.
A sparrow. What kind? No one knew. We looked for telltale
signs. Almost wrote sings. We are worse witnesses for death
than for life. We saw yellow where there was not-yellow.
We said a few words—not to honour it, nor even
its species, neither of which we recognized, rather—
in honour all birds and the drop of blood on the
improbable tip of its beak. Be-right red but not in
the process of dripping. So many ways for it to
not be human. But what if it was? The what-iffing
of zoology, eulogy. Then the mate, the thing
with feathers on the un-yellowing pine tip/our tongues.
Hope, baby, hopein the chillest land. My little girl
sings signs “I love birds.” I lied about the cause of life.

Madhur Anand

—Winner of 3rd Place for the Palette Poetry Prize, selected by Edward Hirsch—

Madhur Anand’s debut book of poems "A New Index for Predicting Catastrophes" (McClelland & Stewart/Penguin Random House Canada, 2015) was published to international acclaim ("in every measure a triumph", Publisher's Weekly starred review) and was listed by Canadian Broadcasting Corporation as one of ten all-time “trailblazing” poetry collections. The book was a finalist for the Trillium Book Award for Poetry. Her more recent award-winning poetry and prose has appeared in a number of magazines including The Puritan, Brick magazine,, The New Quarterly, The Walrus and Palette Poetry. Her work won the Thomas Morton Memorial Prize in Fiction in 2017 and was a finalist for the Frontier Poetry Industry Prize in 2018. She is a professor of ecology and sustainability at the University of Guelph, Canada. Her hybrid creative-nonfiction debut "This Red Line Goes Straight to Your Heart" will be published in 2020 (