The Lady pigeon on the gable, by Tom Mukasa

The Lady Pigeon on the gable

She hangs seemingly precariously way up there,
what could be her view?
what decisions does fate reach?
I suppose there is safety in suspension,
a defiant provocativeness,
a feeling of unreachableness,
a teetering between curiosity and satiety,
knowing that the ground has food, a reachableness,
it is the terra-firma,
where the male pigeon incessantly demands for sex,
there, the cat stays,
a loud-mouthed, teeth-baring canine to boot,
the expansive horizon is all around,
upwards is the deep blueness,
but the pigeon is drawn,
to the concentric interconnectedness,
the cat's backyard,
the canine's lap,
the seeds,
a tempting magnetism, nuptial bed,
pantry,
battle-ground,
the glass-walls so high and large,
optical Medusa,
luring speeding birds to their deaths,
and down below the cat or canine,
make a meal out of this,
meanwhile, fate finds purpose in all views.

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