When Listening in Austin
From the rental balcony
I see it’s Northern Cardinals
bold female on the wire and cautious boy
shrouded in the locust tree
in a few hours we’ll be in an auditorium
of a thousand seats listening
for your nephew’s name
so he can walk on stage to receive
a piece of paper that is as blank as
a thousand faceless faces
the red birds in Brooklyn are cardinals too
the only time I got close to one
was when I found him dead
on 8th street. I picked him up
and nestled him into a tree bed of overgrown ivy
the bad kind that breaks up
mortar and bricks
because I need to keep
the faith—if he was just stunned
flying into a window
he could still get up.
Jiwon Choi is a poet, preschool teacher, and urban gardener. She is the author of three poetry collections. Her most recent book, A Temporary Dwelling, was published by Spuyten Duyvil. She started her Brooklyn community garden’s first poetry reading series, Poets Read in the Garden, to support local writers. She is an editor at Hanging Loose Press. You can find out more about her at iusedtobekorean.com.
