pigeon poem.

{the remains of a pigeon i found on my way to work.}

today on the sidewalk
i found the splayed skeleton of a pigeon

wings barely attached to bones, but legs still pink,
with toes curling like a baby’s fingers
caught in the soft tight grip
of that sleep –

& it caught in my body, the sadness:
empty cambium of the heart carved out,
aery avian wingbones to pestle down ache
& slowly digest –

for an empty nest will haunt us, frightens us,
the little lobes of the beak still intact, mouth
open half in song –

for when a bird falls suddenly out of the sky
death comes to the breathing
to hollow us out,
remind us that

death is felt only by those still living,
a strange reflecting of sun on wings
falling not on the dead
but those who are left clinging, clinging

as beloved things leave us
& we try to hold, to hold
with soft pink pigeon-toes
to the birds of their souls –