“Myrtle’s Well Runs Dry” by Savannah Sipple

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He is a yellow-bellied sapsucker, peckering his way
through this world while he drumdrumdrumdrumdrumdrums
holes into everyone and laps up everything sweet.

I shoulda seen him coming, the way he flew into town
one winter without so much as a suitcase. I shoulda known
he’d bang around, but nest where the sap was syrupy.

I shoulda lit him up with a round of bird shot, shoulda
made his tail as red as his face, made it so he can’t stand
straight. I should stop listening for his early morning call.

-Savannah Sipple