16 June 2005

Naturaleza muerta

A bird lies dead outside my patio doors
there is no sign of struggle: did he suffer?
An old woman - my neighbour - tends to her budding flowers
with a watering can and a small garden trowel

It is the height of May; I'm having breakfast
The children are awake and watching television
The sun shines from the East. A tabby cat
reaches the top of the fence and with mighty hind legs
propels itself into my garden quietly
and takes away the bird's carcass. I can hear no sound
but that of the television as my children await their breakfast
way, way high in the food chain

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