Butcher Bird
Yer can tell if you've ever strolled into a Butcher bird's yard.
Grasshoppers and mice, and small birds'r crucified, headless, on hawthorn twigs… bushes and briars.
Butcher bird's got a robber's mask
stretched over its eyes, and a hawk's
beak
hooked like an awl for crackin' paper
skulls on mossy holler stones in wet river rock or
hangin' carcasses up.
Sometimes Butcher bird cries out like a cat with wings,
severs th' head and carries it up a cedar tree
to decorate its nest.
Butcher bird's life's built of loneliness, killin' and grief
in ignorance of what it does.
Butcher bird‘s life is like my own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great start with a nice poem, Robert P. A. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks