by William Skink
where once this Blackbird liked to fly
the sky is empty, clouds all gone
the sun is blazing, heating rocks
lizard soaks it up and runs
where to run? no where to hide
Jaybird squawks and pecks at flies
buzzing round a pile of shit
marked with flecks of politics
dismember tail, colors change
lizard even changes names
Jaybird’s beak is long and slick
and lizard knows where it can fit