“Merciless” by Patty Paine

grief & other animals1.

Again, the pigeons arrive,
three months, and still expecting
a scribble of seed along the sill.
How not to hate their relentless
innuendo, their inexhaustible need
to return? The hand that feeds you
is no more. Take your stupid swagger,
your useless iridescence, alight
yourselves, be gone.

2.

The night you hit the black ice
of addiction, it came to me
razor clean. After, someone wailed
and keened and turned
beggar. Someone strung
beads of no, no, no. Someone
collapsed, and broke open,
while someone else murmured
over, over, over

Patty Paine,
Grief & Other Animals
(Accents Publishing)

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