One-Legged Goose

by Michael Lee Johnson

You see me in the parking lot hobbling, avoiding cars.

I am that one-legged Canadian goose guest of the wild.

You toss me a handful of mixed birdfeed.

I am your morning wing flapper picking up leftovers

by sparrows brown wing doves, yet grateful for charity.

I learn to survive dipped in red resister North then South

traveler, lifelong, mute to borders, I cross the line.

I thank you poet, bouquet, crossword flowers

gusty winds mix carnations.

Cheap, reasonable costs in depth, death, within religions,

tones of god Zeus, one space to Mary wept.

Those cheap carnations at the foot of the cross.

One-legged goose singled out.

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