Flush

by Bruce Holsapple

In the cellar window
wings extended, thumping, a stray pigeon

fallen down thru my unused chimney
this spring, fluffy white breast
pressed to the glass

wings fluttering
just at the level of grass,

level of an epitaph—

Go down, let it out
quote unharmed,
find that ennobling—
“liberty, equality”

It feels like I’m working for the enemy
why? like the Mafia is involved,
& they’re wise to all of it
want to make something
concrete out of me, spare tires,
angel food cake

“A light broke in upon my brain”
chains & wheels & gears
some phantom purpose
phantom grace
how I give myself airs
the screen erased
myself transfixed in that glare

my sagging heart
a felicitous dishrag
a giddy passage
to & from

flap flap flap

a giddy black sponge

—————————

Imagine your supper talking back
getting critical

Imagine birds scold you
like that black & white furtive character there
slinking down the sidewalk
arched tail
pretending I don’t care

the inaugural democratic
‘chicken in every pot’
become truly representative

eggs Benedict McAmold

the Thanksgiving turkey
commenting on your prayer

Imagine the landscape suddenly feathered
raising the Union Jack

When your heart leaps up
just when you’re flush
want in
sheer frustration

all your points of reference
sprout wings