The Park in Winter

Poor little pigeon parked on a park bench,
all broken & none the better
for it, its little park
feathers flopped down on a small town bench/ but
Beatrix is clam- & stamm-
ering shut: she won't say a thing! No,

she's calm today She's calm. Another cluck
& chuck all the particular
birds—she's tired of birds & blobs of birds.
She's calm today & O,
the pink-eyed little bastard birds,
but she won't say it.

No, she won't say
                              a single bastardly thing.

Copyright © 2009 Stacy Kidd All rights reserved
from The Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission