Summer 1984 • Vol. VI No. 3 Voices in American PoetryJuly 1, 1984 |

The Jay

My wife says he simply flew before he had to, late at night. He'd flown onto the porch and, confused, flew into this poem. Stared actually at the pitch that dropped him for a noisy star. I've seen them in parks applauding as a woman in a blue wig called for her children. They say, Be like us. Be like us. Refuse human ways. What happens to them to keep them so amazed? Every mark, every nimble line is a hard question. They are bold in every sweet transgression. They call you every name in the book.

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