A penance of sparrows
A penance of sparrows I offer
to the flat steel sky, a humble exercise
from the gladiator circle, a wind formula.
The person-owl tolls my sins —
wild human that I am,
and timid, and fragile,
my need for firm amendment.
Here I am.
The black eagle, big as a forest,
chants from the alley altar. I join in.
I swim the red poison, the judas air,
the steel rain.
Three fragments for flute and harp.
Each body on the sunset airplane
droning above Lawrence Avenue, I am,
each body in the night-bright Cottage Grove bus,
each body in lakeshore towers
and in cottage stumps on gray side streets,
each lost locksmith, each body afraid,
each angry McDonald’s customer on Western,
each vagrant limo rider, each body growing out
of the black soil of the Humboldt Park empty lot
awaiting brick walls and hoping for mountains,
each one holding death’s ticket, I am,
each poor one passing as not poor,
each definite walker in the sad night,
each stunned refugee outside the supermarket,
each spirit spinning in a freedom frenzy,
each awaiting word from the naming committee,
each hotel handmaid, each lucky mistake,
each body with no shadow, each crow,
each flesh wound, each unseen wound,
each sum of incalculable unworthiness, I am,
each body giving up the ghost,
each body taking self-exit,
each body getting out of bed,
each body asweat, each body denial,
each one shocked by the red and
feathers pigeon carcass on the snow.
each open heart, each closed heart,
each kneeling petitioner, each fistful shouter,
each body empty of direction, I am.
I climb ivy like a wall.
I lose myself in the abbot’s garden.
I am present at the nest.
Poppy and cowslip,
garlic and pansy, thistle, rose,
clover, hyssop, marigold and vetch.
Here I am.
I race run, faith kept,
the wagon road under the wall,
three times around,
past the sentry place,
past the wild, beaten fig tree
and the two springs arising out of stone,
unapproachable baptism.
Deep night, bird song, Neptune light.
Patrick T. Reardon, a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, was a newspaper reporter with the Chicago Tribune for 32 years. He is the author of six poetry collections including Salt of the Earth: Doubts and Faith Puddin’: The Autobiography of a Baby, A Memoir in Prose Poems. His poetry has appeared in America, Rhino, After Hours, Heart of Flesh, Autumn Sky, Silver Birch, Burningword Literary Journal, The Write Launch, Poetry East, The Galway Review, Under a Warm Green Linden and many other journals. His history book The Loop: The “L” Tracks That Shaped and Saved Chicago was published in 2020 by Southern Illinois University Press.
Amethyst Review 