Docent Finches in Appalachia Drinking Berries

a glass audience weeps for no person like a Peg-billed Finch
drinking berries and tossing the rest off Costa Rica branches

berries teaching weeds to envelop
the abandoned carcasses of trains
of the oppressed north

dominant hands are still, but stinging,
waving at the opposing army at night
when they will not be surprised
or frightened

of being in her house
under her bed

working for us with cinnamon wingbars
charging with her disarmament and piercing
between the antesque society and the gavel,
a song of glass heard across borders and holy texts

forest rangers in Appalachia are singing,
“All the birds are God”