GOLDFINCH

he speaks a hoarse glossolalia
whiskey cloud arm-gesture theatrics
by the mailbox at the corner
and his eyes are inkwells stabbed by red lightning
and his hair is coarse burrs spilling from a winter hat

I stopped to grab a feather off the sidewalk
It was a beautiful golden and black piece of her
a part of a goldfinch’s wing

His sermon rattled from his throat
A paean to long forgotten gods

The god of the space between stars
The god of candle wax and ink
The god of dragonflies and shallow water
The god of sidewalks and scraped knees

And he spoke the continuum of the woman in Delphi
Those girls in Salem
Speech outside of the paradigm
So the cops showed up and shot him in the head

And the feather from that goldfinch lives in my wallet now
pressed between my debit card and my insurance card