Pigeon Residue

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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