MagPie.
The magpie flies over the motorwayJust missing the cars, the vans the trucks,
All of the monsters' breathings,
Everything they are that f*cks
The surrounding
Greenery,
And turning, churning it
Into obscenery.
She flies above
But the waft
Of dark air form the immovable movers
Pushes her upwards, awaywards on the thurmoil draft.
She flies on and finds a beyond
Beyond the fume
That makes
Nature fume
And, after taking breath,
Settles
On her eggs
Among the safety of the nettles.
She feeds her young
On motored-down
Flattened
Red and brown
Gifts from the stinking gods
Of the tarmac river:
The dual-carrionway
Taker and giver.
Today, she
Dodges, and gains from the thunder steel:
Tomorrow, she
Becomes another's meal.
10:59, Tue. 11/03/2008.
Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 736 times
Written on 2008-05-27 at 14:07
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