By Dawn Corrigan
The quiet split by someone shouting
turns out to be a mockingbird.
The show-off seems hell-bent on spouting
every sound he’s ever heard:
first dog, then frog, then Honda Civic.
This repertoire’s his mating gimmick—
that’s why he can’t contain his noise.
He gains no extra points for poise.
So when our mimic starts to sing
he spreads his wings and proudly flashes
his pair of sexy, white wing patches
like someone showing off his bling.
Oh no! That dude just stole his girl.
I would have given him a whirl.
Dawn Corrigan's poetry and prose have appeared in a number of print and online journals, most recently The Lake, Right Hand Pointing, and Don't Just Sit There. Her debut novel, an environmental mystery called Mitigating Circumstances, was released from Five Star/Cengage in January 2014.