thinking theology

flight & rest

an old poem about the difficulties of communication, in honour of queen victoria

the pigeons are crapping on queen victoria
in a friendly, intimate way,
no high-altitude, indifferent fly-past
nestled in her bosom
cooing by her chin and on her shoulders
fluffing and gossiping
with her and with each other
as only long time
crap partners can

i come to see you in the Barton jail
there is a mirror between us
so that i touch my own fingers
see my own image, framed in red brick
although i hear you tapping
you only see yourself too
too lonely, too framed
a grainy sepia photograph

why do pigeons love a statue?
why do i love you?
i am not a statue
you are not a pigeon;
you only crap and rarely fly.

break the mirror
and the guards will come
and we will see each other.

long live queen victoria!


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