HIS BROTHER HAD SHOT THE BOAT-TAILED BIRD

by Maggie Glover

 

 

So he took the pellet gun from his hands,

nudged the grackle’s beak with the butt of it.

The noise from her mouth, like

                                                            Catch me, Catch me.

He lowered himself to his knees

                                                            (that summer, he had grown five inches)

                              to slam the gun into her blue/black head.
Then

a loop of blood at the ankle,
                                                            a splash.

 

        

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