By J.J. Tindall
Red Wing, Yellow Sin
A red-winged blackbird
landed at my picnic table
at Navy Pier
opening a great lake
in my turbulent mind.
Yes: my mind landed
on this picnic table at Navy Pier
for a cig break
between shifts.
This is how it is: Sargent Blackbird
with red and yellow stripes,
black eyes, burnt feet
straight out the top of an old god’s head.
Coal black, sin yellow, rose red.
I wanted to become a blackbird
and not go back to work,
never go back to work. Lord have mercy.
I was green
with Blackbird Envy.
I begrudged him his nascent oblivion,
his life of seeds, berries, stray cats
and cig butts.
“Yes,” he seemed to suggest,
“Some day this war’s gonna end.” Amen.
Superlative little fucker
brought the Good News
straight from the bottom of an
old god’s lake!
I dug his tao
and then I went back
to work.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
Posted on July 18, 2012