Scraps
When she moved out, the starlings and sparrows
pecked the bird table dry, prowling it like
beachcombers, fluttering back again from roofs
in case a stale pie slice or end of loaf
had magically materialised. She used
to pop out from the kitchen fifty times
a week to scrape a plate and shake her apron.
Then she’d watch above her taps big starlings
elbowing little birds, guzzling, gargling,
launching with beakfuls of pastry and cod skins,
leaving specks for chaffinches and tits.
No sight or sound of birds a fortnight after
when I hauled and twisted it, and bricks
I’d rammed down hard to firm the stem let go.
Page(s) 15
magazine list
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- Lamport Court
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- North, The
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- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
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- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
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- Staple
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