PIGEONS (poetryrepairshop 99.11:125 ) |
| ______ | i. Pigeons, a hundred or so, Balance on the drooping telephone line Two stories above the stained sidewalk Their beveled tails bent downward Like twitching swords of Damocles As I pass below With my newly washed hair. ii. Each morning the old woman Calls the pigeons to her front yard Preaching a Eucharist of dried Wonder bread To the rough but hungry flock The newer neighbors do not like this communion It invites in the rubble To dawdle on their new roofs and Victorian ledges A poor and boisterous mob not easily dispersed Soiling the Pharisee's hope for perfection.
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