Resting at Icoco
I observe a bird
Pecking at street paste.
Unrecognisable colourless goo.
No features, congealed puddle of nothing.
I however, days prior
Was privy to its conception.
This anonymous jello
The bird so furiously consumes
Was once its kin.
Too slow in flight
Caught the fury of
A steel horse
Kissed a thousand times over
By rubber hooves.
I wondered if this bird
Would cease to feast
If he knew his meal
Was once his friend.
Then I wondered
Would I?


Published by Lobster Thoughts

Poetic expression and general madness.

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