Tabernacle

Spring again & I too have molted

& crazed the bell with buckshot

& sent the sparrow flying scared

from the copse & whittled shadows

****

the son is a sparrow

the tilled field is a sparrow

the sparrow opens like a door

the door opens like a wail

the sparrow is every room in the house

the sparrow is the falling leaf

at the break of dog & fire

the sparrow is the god of the roads

father is a sparrow

the sparrow bemusedly circles in battle sleep

I make what I can of the sparrow

& it makes what it can of me

I leave it behind & it leaves me behind

I return home & the sparrow is waiting in a bramble

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