I wonder where the mockingbird is from, and where it went, you said.
You’re Job, I said, when Yahweh sphinxes him for fun.
You said it came a second night but then last night was gone.
He blanked, I said, on when the mountain-goats give birth,
He blanked on where Leviathans cross seas,
He blanked on why the wind both woos and kills.
You said it sang beside our bed two nights, not three. Not three.
I said I can’t explain antiphony,
it seems its own reward
and when the bird has said “amen”
another sound insults the word.