Melinda Wilson / Amplexus

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 Melinda Wilson is Managing Editor for Coldfront Magazine ( Her poems have appeared in Diner, The Lumberyard, Arsenic Lobster, WOMB and Verse Daily among others. She lives in New York City.



We both like finches,
chubby bulbs on the wires.
They sleep up there.
Roosting is what we say.
They don’t say anything.

You said, “in that shirt
you are an Olive Sparrow.”
I said, “in that shirt
you are a Field Sparrow.”

“You are precious,” you said.
I wondered if you meant
a Song Sparrow or a Deep-Blue
Flowerpiercer. Am I your Seaside
Sparrow chirping during sleep
or a Little Bunting screeching
from its perch in the rain?

You said, “you’re a Yellow-bellied
Seedeater,” when I wouldn’t
eat the duck. I called you a Yellow-eyed
Junco, uglier than a Cuban Bullfinch,
or a Masked Booby,
a real Hairy Woodpecker.
You said, “no, really.
You’re my Tufted Titmouse,
my Carolina Chickadee.”