from THE FALLEN BIRD OF THE FIELDS

Norman Dubie


               I.

 

She sings to the worms in transit
between the orchard
and the ghost hurtling glacier,
the ta sa la of the stone dead,
but in passage
over a sack of coal
and the basket of seed potatoes.

It is the messenger bee, at last,
carrying a green and copper scroll
with the legitimate characters
of naked apostasy
written there in red and yellow pollen; 
stone dead in the branches, the apples
have gone the beggar red
of a pomegranate.
Deer are grazing on the limestone ledges.

This is the cipher of everyone leaving us.
Not just with a fresh loneliness
but with those eyes of potatoes

for the only witnesses.



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