Finch

I said I know you but that’s a lie.

I know my arms and throat.

I know my mother’s ghost.

I know the book of dark fragments.

I know the snowy owl’s cry.

I know windows in winter twilight.

I know houses for the rich at the edge of town.

I know the retired bootlegger.

I know only a little about forgiveness.

I know you don’t like to be handled.

I know you weigh less than an ounce.

I know I can’t tell the truth about you.

I know you have the softest call.