Monday, October 17, 2016

Jeltje Fanoy #72 forever

by himself on
our rooftops, his

endless calls, for her,
in our lanes (in our heads)

he's doing all the
things that pigeons do,

a bit more slowly,
it seems, after

the developer, outside
his daughter's house,

always checking,
by himself, on his

smartphone, assessing
the talk about a tunnel,

just down the road

on houses, everywhere,

she's said, she had
wanted to stay, she'd

already given her name
to the house, now,

they had to sell, fast,

the truck arrived, her
orange tabby, in shock,

caught a pigeon resting
under the parked cars,

feathers caked in blood,
an offering, for him,

for her, on their doorstep
(he must have felt deserted)

before a week or so, later,
they moved their cat, too


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