Robin Red-Breast

This afternoon in City Park

Under the live oaks, on the leaf-covered ground,

Your promenading so close to my car window

With your proud red breast, your entire display

Is taking me back.

Your red breast, large and proud,

Is taking me back to the roasting turning on a string

Hung from the mantle of the fireplace.

Six or seven of you, plumb naked robins,

Turning, turning your naked plump bodies

Twisting the strings first one way and then reversing

Reversing again, turning and twisting

As you roasted before winter fire.

And delicious smoke entered the living room, and

Entered the sofa and our clothes, and

Soon, with delight in our country manners

We would peel your flesh from your light bones, and

Eat.

--March 21, 2013