Wrong Birds

Catriona Yule


I watched you strut your peacock dance
prick-plumage blazing turquoise.

You weren't hers: this dowdy female,
grey-brown feathers enflamed by your gaze.

I ditched the table, shot from the room,
somehow dreaming you'd follow.

When I returned, your eyes were deep
in her right breast. My heart fell hard.

A mynah bird caught it in his wing,
puffed his chest out from a darkened perch.

As din squawked from his gullet,
we waltzed each other out of sync.

He hovered, then flew back to his cage.
I sagged back to my seat, blind to hot glances

and the cha cha cha...


Published in Shedding Skin, 2007
(Koo Press)

Shedding Skin

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