Wendy Mulford
THE BULLFINCH & THE CELLO
Words for music perhaps
It's you or the cello I said to the bullfinch
as through one morning he importuned my window
perched on the door-handle& played -
it's the music-man, pierrot in disguise
Stravinsky & his mob. I listened for the thrum
of the sacrifice, the missing car-beat, the sound
of tyres returning -
the notes that he wrote went missing &
ripped out my heart. So I tore it in strips &
hung it up for the birds to savour -
You did not wish to be left out
so I tore up more strips & hung them
from the feeding-table & I waited for
your friends to come and join us
- but you my friend had forewarned them
- it's tough chewing. Slowly they came
to the table ~ suspicion on their beaks ~
& there was no more music
for music had stopped & words came slowly
:from all over the heath the small birds congregated
to share the communion of my heart
& they came to partake of it ~ & from my ribs
we tore more flesh to sweeten the banquet
& ribs & heart hung out for the gathering of the birds
hurry! hurry! you said
let us eat your heart while it is still juicy
before the crow and the magpie the seagull
the jay & the jackdaw steal
its withered strips
& when you had feasted your fill
I hung up what remained to wither & cure
for the woodpecker the jay
the hawk & the heron
& at the end of the feast they danced on my grave
Copyright Wendy Mulford 2013
