the final finch

x. is a naturist who’s grown disenchanted
with her fellow ornithologists —

she’s on the fringe —
she loves a rouge finch

a house finch
with a particularly ruddy head

her disability —
she rubs the promenade of her femurs

her frontal lobe
abuts her occipital lobe

she finds herself lurking in shadows
and kicked a well-known addiction

for rondos without recurrences
and she surfeits epiphanies

she hatches a finch
it won’t be like other finches

it will be the final
finch.

What I’m Reading:

“In the presence of a crow it is incredibly difficult to pretend to inhabit a world in which all else is passive background to human lives and dramas. If we pay them even the smallest bit of attention, crows burst the anthropocentric bubble with spectacular flair.”

— Thom van Dooren / The Wake of Crows