Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

Flesh and Feather

PSX_20180330_190906Drab brown drag bustling

with the snap and jitter

of twelve frames a second.

Squabble tweedling with dickering

kin scrabble-flickering for errant grain.


The farmers sons with .22 strength

strode to rid the field of pests. I watched

with disapproval as once common

sparrows met their lead shot end.


Then  peer-pressure forced my hand.


Always clumsy, I took the rifle, aiming

to miss and killed with my first shot.

Mocked for the tears I shed on finding

the twitching smear of flesh and feather,


I ran, inconsolable and desolate,

pneumatic smack still echoing

it’s blank indifference in the level

fostered fields and blasted meadow.


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