Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

James Harpur

Kevin and the Blackbird

Kevin and the Blackbird

Kevin and the Blackbird

I never looked, but felt the spiky feet
Prickling my outstretched hand. I braced my bones,
My heart glowed from the settling feathered heat

And later from the laying of the eggs
Heavy, as smooth and round as river-rolled stones,
Warm as the sun that eased my back and legs.

When I heard the cheepings, felt the rising nest
Of wings, the sudden space, the cool air flow
Across my fingers, I did not know the test

Had just begun – I could not bend my arms
But stood there stiff, as helpless as a scarecrow,
Another prayer hatching in my palms –

Love pinned me fast, and I could not resist:
Her ghostly nails were driven through each wrist.
Close

Kevin and the Blackbird

I never looked, but felt the spiky feet
Prickling my outstretched hand. I braced my bones,
My heart glowed from the settling feathered heat

And later from the laying of the eggs
Heavy, as smooth and round as river-rolled stones,
Warm as the sun that eased my back and legs.

When I heard the cheepings, felt the rising nest
Of wings, the sudden space, the cool air flow
Across my fingers, I did not know the test

Had just begun – I could not bend my arms
But stood there stiff, as helpless as a scarecrow,
Another prayer hatching in my palms –

Love pinned me fast, and I could not resist:
Her ghostly nails were driven through each wrist.

Kevin and the Blackbird

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