A gang of turkeys has colonized the park.
Ugh! the big unbalanced
bodies and skinny necks. Wattles, caruncles, snoods.
Now a spurred-shank jenny
goes fancy-footing by, as if across parade grounds
where wonders may appear, in the majesty
of every ugly thing turning
beautiful, the way anything loved will be.
Which reminds me again
of L.—this morning in the mirror
a mote in my eye
I was trying to remove
and I thought: definitely, her faults
I grow painfully aware
amount to a speck compared
to those same mountains in me,
so I’ve lately grown obsessed
with physics: force and action, spooky action
at a distance, and love. Always
love. You can’t see it
but what it makes you do is real.