Poems

Survivors

A bird, as if knowing where it is going, gliding perfectly
through
one straight line

the dazzlingly blue sky the sliding bird made while passing
through

that afternoon sky under which I wanted to become mad
postmodernly

people who were unable to find seats were standing at the
entrance of a restaurant
forming no queue.

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Comments (2)

bindi

amazing!

Tom Fleet

Survivors, Hungering
Gliding perfectly straight, now there’s a bird  knows where it’s going
The sky shimmering blue, rendered by it in passing
The afternoon beneath, turning delirious and postmodernly so
People too late for tables stood lineless at the door

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