Jonathan Finch
TO ALL BIRDS (do not sing)
Do not begin to sing
here where the dark grit gravels the heart.
Better to hold
a vicious flame to your lips
than sing in this lost valley
of lost stars.
Take heart!
and wither, die! but do not sing.
Collar a button-necked lover
and fop your finger with a tinsel ring;
break wind over faith and laugh
till you meet your epitaph – but do not sing.
You are cut glass smashed. Heavens!
but do not sing. Rather chirp
from the gilt and glitter of triumphing cars;
drop from your flaccid nipples
a few fine stars. Do anything-
but do not sing. Take heart!
You have ample legs and breasts as numerous
as cans; thighs that would deck
a butcher’s shop with hams;
and, adding compliment to compliment,
fill all his vans and perhaps
the world’s less exclusive culinary pans.
So, take heart! take heart! but do not sing.
Or, if you must, take wing! take wing!
(from “”Love” Poems For Kathy / Green. Laced. Leaves”)
<a href="https://pixabay.com/en/birds-swarm-flock-of-birds-sky-fly-2799993/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Source</a>
