Pigeons
       

Saw an old love,
said, too bad,
too bad this is Seattle
and we are Buffalo,
we are Barcelona,
said, to bad
I only get so much
space, so many days,
not enough pigeons
in my heart to carry
this—the last time
I traveled was Europe
beside the bullet-
moving night trains,
the electrified rails
hobbling all the pigeons,
pigeons gathering about
my feet on peg-stubbed
feet, missing talons, phantom-
limbed, ruby eyed. Beads
of light dappling the station,
we sat on our packs
within the concrete dark
the light needed to shine in,
feeding the pigeons
our crumbs, saying,
too bad about the pigeons,
peeking, seeking,
missing the parts of them
they used to need.

Tweet
Copyright © 2015 Devon Moore All rights reserved
from Meridian
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission