through a riddle:
of delicate shape,
but un-little.
It is the songbird's
king-size cousin
who ought to sing
but can't and doesn't,
a ponderous bird whom
song won't stand to teach.
Its throat must reach
for notes like thoughts
for speech. Despite
oneself, one stays
to simple parts.
To play them
the unlikeliest
of arts.
2 comments:
someone's been reading kay ryan
i am that someone
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