The Pigeon
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DescriptionA poem from the perspective of a pigeon.
MessageWhat don't they see?
ImageMonomoy Writes
I flap my gray-feathered wings as I fly over Venice, looking atThe heads below.I love the way the wind blows under my wings. I see below coffee shops with coffee ICan’t drink.How come humans drink poison? Do they thinkIt’s safe? Do they thinkThey’re special?I look around, andAgain, I see themUsing those raggityOld brooms. I swear,Each one must be a centuryOld. Maybe more!I see another pigeonTry to steal some food.I see the black catBy the Colosseum.And I see a lady getKicked out of a church.What don’t I see?
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