Into the heck
of my day-dream driven march
breaks this pigeon leg,
lying in the middle of the alleyway.
This livid-pink scaled foot,
camply poised, missing a counter-part
but counter-pointed by a gristly fan
of tendons, shredded body-meat, exposed bone.
Blood and feathers give me pause,
a moment with this residue of a bird,
a smear of a fantasy of flight
and the lost blue of possibility.
Amputated, grounded, wingless,
It’s just another addition
to the shit and wrappers
flapping in the alley.
I think this is where I will lay us down
so I can carry on into my day
unburdened.
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