Blackbird

Oh Blackbird, sir? I call,
How wonderful it must be
To spread your wings and fly,
Any branch of any tree is your home,
For you inhabit a place I would much
Like to go, of no consequence,
Of no criticism.

And oh! Mr. Blackbird
How terrific it must truly be
To have no gods,
Baying at your heels,
Black eyes sparkling.
No men between your sheets,
Wrapping their tentacles around your
Embryonic, quivering body,
Dragging you into the deep.

Blackbird, my dear
How gratifying it must be,
The wind upon your face,
Soaring in the sky,
In the company of the stars and the sun
As they gaze down upon creation,
Weeping with joy at the miracle of life.

Oh Blackbird, sir, how I pity thee,
For I am one man, as I am all men,
The sum of jealousy and sin,
So I take my gun,
bang! bang! bang!
Point it skyward and shoot you down.