A green finch…
Spring comes early & beautiful & also funny/cynical in Daniel Paul Marshall’s wonderful new poem… check it out
A green finch takes a liking to our Callistemon |
already cozied up to sun & rain.
The finch | itches its beak | nibbles insects
& pollen dusts its feathers when it scoots
from branch to branch— from this distance the blooms
resemble lobster pincers | provide ample
cover & keep the famished tabby cats at bay
—there’s no Romanticism for that bird
only the rotary of struggle | it knows
no adjective to discuss the pleasures of flight |
its xylophonic vocals | good for an annual fuck
—the remainder of the year serves as beck
n’ call | alarm to warn his own of predators nearby.
& what we feed the air spins in his brain
the size of a walnut | the chaff filtered
with a diaphanous beat | the talent
of lungs no larger than a kidney bean.
The finch never reminisces that time
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