Friday, August 10

For Sorrow

one for sorrow
‘wish wish’ the magpie,
hops lonely,

getting back its
breast over grass

for are we
not able, or the magpie

if t’were to know
left from right

then be its left wing
not recouped
but attractively crippled

3 fingers broad
by its side

now a burden
when before provide
to fly

(pounced a bug morsel,
snatched from a stem)

not long left –
these neighourhood cats
hunt and profession’ly scrap

and the blue that feisty
flashed on primaries

will, by night, offer him up in
moonlight, speckled by some bush; no
more not damaged nor alive

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