Kingdom Crumb by Heath Brougher

Give love like dove sucking plumpulps;

handle his keen legs  ~~  his limping beak

sputtering spouting chirping shuddering

from the ice-block weather

rustling behind his nest

the stolen color-shape

of his eggs

all eaten by the consummate human:

lain on tables, his son,

scrambled cooked beside bacon

—legs and heart—mushed—


forever unpumping

mixed with unhad feathers,

slight tweet, slight askance

for love;

now he resides in the stomach,

churning into bile,

unfluttered days

handle him;

give love like a dumb sucking eggplumps,

soon to vomit entire flocks.


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