southern songbirds

i have for you; poems

Songbirds 2026 P.

MAMA FINDS ME—

When I’m busy cryin’ to papa
Oh papa! Oh papa!
You finally came back to me!
Missin’ a limb n’ forgettin’ my name.
He was drivin’ with a Coors light in the
back pocket of his Levi’s—
glass pressin’ bone.
Strugglin’ to swim.

“You oughta start prayin’ child,
worse things are a-comin.’”

After Sunday service,
I tied cherry stems behind the Dairy Queen,
all teeth as I showed the married men.
Bite of a mosquito had me wonderin’—
am I only holdin’ out for a body
soft enough to forget?
But when I go to meet you under that
willow tree—
the clock strikes three
’n mama says to pack my bags.
I got a man waitin’ for me in Connecticut
tellin’ me he’s in love with me.

REMEMBER?

Our professor with the tragic widow’s peak?
Whatever mercy there was
didn’t make it upstairs,
lost between floors.
He said he loved you. They always do.
So I dragged him to granny’s
citrus-stale room,
hopin’ he turns out like papa—
losin’ his mind ‘n all that.
Breathin’ through my nostrils,
hopin’ ‘n prayin’ that the sun might not rise
in the mornin’.

He cried out Jesus,
but why does no one holler for Mary?

The men say I make a good lover but
I suck better through my poems.
I’m savin’ you the trouble
gettin’ rid of all these men for you.
You oughta send a thank you,
cryin’ all these tears so
you don’t have to.

MARY,

The house is loud with things that need tendin’;
a baby cryin’,
an old man dyin’,
‘n NEW HAVEN MAN hungry for
somethin’ I don’t have.

I’m homesick for granny’s cuss words,
Kentucky’s thumb pressed deep into me.
Homesick for the wives
flockin’ to the Dairy Queen
to gossip about my latest lay—where
rocky road ice cream tastes of
your brother’s pride.

I was twelve feet from where he bathed,
when the old man had passed.
God rest his soul—
naked, nothing at last.

NEW HAVEN MAN AND I ARE

At the Diner, I ask the waitress
to play somethin’ gay
’n I get drunk ‘til my jaw goes slack.
NEW HAVEN MAN,
was eleven years sober
‘til my stories made him itch
for the hard liquor.

I HEAR,

Papa’s drinkin’
stale beer of dementia,
mama’s busy hawkin’ her knees
to hundreds of married men.

I’m thinkin’ if I go high enough,
she might love me
like she does those Calg’ry men,
but mama says Calg’ry’s just a place,
’n places never saved her from God’s plan.

Papa used to say,
you’re my sweetpea ‘n that’ll never change.
Now he’s always spittin’
sunflower seeds into corn fields.

My name was lost
somewhere durin’ the crash—
floodlights ‘n emergencies,
breath missin’.

I ask of you, papa—
when the porch light burns out,
do you remember my name?

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Thank you to JLG for helping me with the title………………. Also, these poems can all be read on their own but they all do make up one narrative, freeverse poem. I think this is one of my favourites now. I’ve had this stewing for over a year. As always, thank you Virgins for reading.