Dead bird
in Sunday's Well
on Strawberry Hill
ooozing out of the tar
as if it were
rising from
the dead
rather than being
dead.
It's black feathers
struggling to break free
(a 2-D drawing
becoming 3~D)
it's head
above it all
screaming at the heavens
its silent agony
that still screams
across the sky
as church bells call
us to worship
its death
mocking
us our belief.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunday-s-well-on-strawberry-hill-for-scarlett/
