Jake's Flea Market

through a hole in a wood 
plank face of a tent on a fencepost

beaks wide open   baby swallows   
two or three   a band of amateur birds   a choir
of voices that haven’t matured
that haven’t trained to sing

they cheep  cheepcheep
from the stage that is a floor
of block wood in a small house   made of two one by four
planks joined at the peak of the gable

i am the audience
for what won’t be heard beyond the rows
of cars planted in the pasture

won’t be heard by the rows of dancers who step
on the sunned and dusty grass in front of the stage

won’t be heard on stage by the one who drums
nor by the ones who blow horns   the ones who pluck
strings with picks and with fingers   nor by john
who sings into a microphone     mouth open
wide as a beak   the parent swallow fills