Shame

I hid the deed:
—would my life end?

The grackle called it back again.

The grackle then
became

my life. A swan’s neck
curling to ask
what if

uncurled
to reach into the reed,

and struck the stone
of what I did.

The grackle called it back again.

The grackle called it back again.

More Poems by Joshua Weiner