‘The Migrant’ & others

‘The Migrant’ & other poems

The Migrant

I remember
how one time in spring
coming home from school
on a violet evening,

long before I reached,
in that shadow-casting line
of wall-to-wall terrace houses,
no. 39,

I could hear a bizarre
jangling cacophony
and, drawing closer,
was amazed to see

in a branch of our bottlebrush
a spectacular jewel,
an annunciatory,
revelatory angel:
...