Black Bird (from Overcoming My Fear of Nature)
I once heard the dead poet speak
To a live audience about the flight
Of a black bird.
The conceit being him locked in an ivy
And tormented to the grass.
I can imagine that black bird
Squawking out Heaney! Heaney!
A strangers name.
So familiar to the black bird
So familiar to the life
And death of us humans
As the black bird scavenges about
Our remains.
