[Susan McLean]

Nightingale Pie

Inspired by a dream recounted by A.E. Stallings

It's midnight. I'm trapped in
a dream in which I
am eating some nightingales
baked in a pie.

I wake up in horror.
Forgive me, John Keats,
for seeing such songsters
as edible treats!

For surely a poet
should know that it's wrong
to pay them for singing
by killing the song.

Like Poe with his raven,
I'd merit the curse
of nightingales trilling
reproach on my verse.

And though I have slaughtered
no songbirds, I know
the gut-churning flavor
of swallowing crow.


Revisions:
S1L1 "having" was "trapped in" reverted to "trapped in"
Previous S4:
Instead of a raven,
I'd merit the curse
of nightingales trilling
disdain for my verse.
S4L3-4 "trilling / reproach on" was "nightly / deriding"