Pigeon

Pigeon

A Poem by Zach Poehlein

Pigeon

Today I happened to see a pigeon
or some other nameless bird,
trapped inside an unowned patio home,
still under construction.

I heard hurried wings,
saw the bird only seconds at a time
wondered what he thought
of his brand new patio home in Fairway Crossing
the place you can “Live where you play”
on the outskirts of Weissinger golf course,
my house sitting morose and stolid
within walking distance.

I turned back to Vonnegut
and let him whisper
more black sarcasm in my ear.
I felt as apathetically sad
as my father does when he drinks.
I suppose not really sad,
just a way that comes as close to sadness
as an emotion can without crossing the fine line
between apathy and sadness.

I considered for a while my next cigarette
at the end of the chapter, and lied to myself again
about quitting, about resolve, asked my pigeon
if he thought less of me,
but forgot to listen for an answer.
I scrubbed burning ash on the concrete
and wondered if my pigeon felt the same way I do
when we flap against closed doors.

I wonder again if he is enjoying his introduction to suburban housing
next door to an old widow who refuses to go to the “Home”
when she can’t lift herself off the toilet.
She will refuse until she dies,
or until she cant bear the pain
in her wrists, ankles, knees, neck,
back, hips, fingers, eyes,
or until my pigeon can find the way
he came in.

The ride home on mother’s red bike
is like fire in my lungs,
and I remember all the cigarettes.
My thighs ache, and I’m ashamed
of my sedentary lifestyle
until I get home.

I wonder if my pigeon is still flapping
against glass doors, maybe now,
sadly apathetic, he doesn’t know
that the feeling will pass cloudlike in time,
and he will find a way to forgive me
for not helping him,
and I will forgive myself for leaving
my cigarette butts still smoldering.
 

© 2008 Zach Poehlein


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Reviews

This is relatively confusing. Actually, to be honest with you, I have no solid train of thought off of which to base any sort of worthy analysis. There are a number of different themes and purposes running through my head on this one.

I see at first, the relation between the speaker and the pigeon..the pigeon is enclosed in a suburban home, as you feel enclosed in your inability to quit..the pigeon almost serves as your conscience..? like how in the end, you present the theme of forgiveness..you wonder if the pigeon is still flapping, which might have to do with you and smoking..and since quitting would do you a favor, if he is your conscience, it would also do him one..so that would be the 'help' that you mention.

that's the most developed idea i get from this.

Posted 15 Years Ago


now I love this even more...the concept of forgiveness and the relationships is soooo interesting here....the cigarettes and the thoughts....I love it when you refer to it as your pigeon that adds so much to the piece it has so much more depth that way rather than saying the pigeon or that pigeon..again great work!...nothing i can think of to nit pick on lol

Posted 15 Years Ago


very interesting, the thoughts and how they connect but yet dont at he same time are quite nice. and mentioning more than one subject/object/person dealing with relatively the same things... nice.

Posted 15 Years Ago



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Added on June 21, 2008

Author

Zach Poehlein
Zach Poehlein

Shelbyville, KY



About
I write poetry. And I hope you can see this, because Im doing it as hard as I can. more..

Writing