Guilt

Guilt

A storm’s wrath had wrenched
the robin’s nest from the tree above.
 
Jerry and i, boys of ten or so,
stumbled upon it the next morning.
 
The mother robin stood her ground,
fluffing her feathers in defiance.
 
We two, imitators of brave hunters,
executed her with a BB gun and laughed.
 
Jerry grew up, played college football,
and became a famous California detective.
 
i went on to teach children our language,
and lay bare my shame in poetry.
 
. . . j

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