Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Pigeon on 54th Street

You were curled to the ground
your chest was swollen,
your wing broken
i bent down to
take in the gray liquid of your eye
Pigeon, can I help?
You looked away in
weak disgust...

I can't even help a dying pigeon die
a painless death
How can I ...
...never mind...
Say nothing.
Always say nothing.
Say less.

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