Tuesday, 19 February 2013


The noise so sudden and shocking
makes me cling to you.

Blood smears across
the window pane,
feathers flutter.
Its neck broken.
Part of creation lays motionless
on your patio.
Its watery crimson blood
taints the garden. 
Shattered wings now only controlled
by the wind.

A birthday gift, parting with a kiss.
Yearning to be closer to you;
stifled by this death.

The horror of reality stares
at us through the lifeless glass eyes
of a pigeon.

©Cat Hill

Open link night 84 at dVerse poets