An Old Pigeon
Amid the pink-green iridescence
Of thy fetid feathers,
Babies screamed and died,
And thine arid beak,
And red strutting talons,
And wings of tar unafraid to fly,
Gave chaos a soliloquy,
Displayed the mathematics
Of the high-seeking gold
Of thine eye,
Where gods swam in rivers old,
The sun exulted,
And armies stormed and fell
Across the sky.
On that Archimedean point on high
The poorest of the poor were exalted
And angels danced
In the universe of thine eye.
© 2007 by Sam Gold
