A grackle is poking its head in the porthole
of the white chapel bird house. Two house sparrows perch
in the pin oak branches above.
How will it have been for you when I’m gone,
such a poor excuse
for a father?
The grackle looks in on their nestlings.
More sparrows gather in the branches, spectators,
audience members when it’s their own brood,
it’s their own children on the screen. More and more
sorrows gather in the branches.
They’re paralyzed.