Montrer le bout de l’oreille

I am here to double-check the desert.
Today’s denizens—cowbirds, goldfinches,
House finches, chipping sparrows, and robins.
Others of course, and others without names,
Others with names this poem’s compositor
Didn’t know. And none of us belong here.
We’ve been imported or have imported

Ourselves. To when or what do we belong?
This poem would like to suggest belonging,
To put it politely, doesn’t matter,
Not in its usual, ethical sense.
No one is wrong for not belonging here.
There’s no higher good in belonging anywhere.
Not naming names betrays the poem’s weakness for weeds.