A not-quite sparrow-song, not heard before
– sounds like he's guying next door's
washing-line – a new species maybe:
passer venetus, unknown to aviaries?
This fellow, whoever, he'll not be seen;
he's hunkered down in the celandines
– ranunculus ficaria, the lesser ones –
daft with laughter at his own lewd fun.
Fat Gianna tugs at her stubborn cord;
her bell breasts tell of none of my wives;
anon-bird reprises his skit without words,
and I'm pleased as he is to be I and alive.
from The Sadness of Animals (Canterbury: San Marco Press, 2012).