A four-wheeled item in a flow
of traffic, I am, coming out of
country bypass at just one set
of big roundabout lights. Stuck!
Magpie, perched on pedestrian railing
Is it a magpie? Biggest ever feck I saw,
jumps down, waddles towards me.
Beaks towards me, and I'm trapped!
It's coming to the kerb. It halts. Looks sharp.
And now it's on the road - and I can't see!
Expect at any second now the thing
to wing up, batter my side window,
one mad-eye winking while beak bashes.
But lights change and the pied bird
hops off the road from nigh under
my tyres with a wriggler* dangling.
.........................
*I mean a wriggling worm or larva dangling in his beak...
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poetry"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
