Raintown #5

2 empty hopper bird feeders dangling
from bare limbs on N. Mason—2 broken
concrete blocks out of kilter cast down be-

side a trailer—it devastates me not to
know the trees’ names—black gnarled
limbs out of whack yet budding blood-

red in January—black crow leaning in-
to its caw from a power line—my shortness of
breath, breathing thru pursed lips ex-

haling trapped air— alveoli col-
lapsed—2 pink flamingoes skewer a
lawn past the deadheaded roses—a second

crow swoops down on the blacktop—chest
rale as if someone mumbles walking just a
few steps back—on a concrete block

wall on N. Vancouver Ave in careful white
paint: tonight I can write the saddest of all
 lines—disturbing not to hear sparrows in

red willows become unadulterated
melody—as if someone walked a few steps back:
our death unswerving comrade

Jack Hayes
© 2012