Untimely; How Unfortunate For A Pigeon by Charlotte Cosgrove

Untimely       

Accidentally putting the wrong coat on,

Only realising by the gloves,

Feeling she was luckier.

Mittens on strings,

Animal faces sewn into the palms,

Simulacrums of life. 

Playground talk of premature babies

Children count heads,

Less than half.

They order themselves,

Oldest to youngest

And all the things which this could mean. 

But to be here on time and have to leave early 

Is a crime. 

Their 20s pass, their 30s begin

                  She is the first to go.

We think of our daughters as we send them to school

With scarves and gloves and hats pressed uncomfortably over ears

With coats the same as their classmates.

How unfortunate for a pigeon 

Off-grey like knickers washed in a mop bucket

We would look outside and see

My father wringing their necks when it was time

Refuse bags in the garden 

Filled with leaves and wings 

That can’t fly anymore.  

As I’m driving I think of others

Flattened like plates on the road ahead of us

And my father, in the back seat

Staring vacant out of the window.