The Jackdaw

In the morning
the thing pecked and pecked
singing
pushing its beak down into a broken egg
nosing around.
The malformed viscera of the bird’s prey
dripping about its visage
an eye
plainly set upon nothing
black as night
twitches in its focus
seems utterly dis-attached
with no recognition
of a crowd.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s