Fucking pigeons!

Fucking pigeons! 

They land on the balcony and do their little dance. 

Beady eyes spying the corner where they laid eggs before. 

That sound as they land alerts me to them and I jump up and wave my arms. 

Sometimes they leave immediately. 

When it doesn’t work I turn the window handle to the open position. 

They recognise the sound and prepare themselves for flight by bobbing down a tiny bit. 

Then I thrust the window open and off they fly.

They have different sounds. 

One feels relentless and sounds demented like a human going, 

“mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm”. 

When I hear it, it ignites a feeling in my stomach, 

Like a fist grabbing and twisting, 

And I need to make it stop this instant; 

I rush to the window. 

Sometimes when I meditate they come and they are loud. 

I try to accept their presence. 

But I know they are shitting all over the balcony 

Whilst eyeing up a place to build their nest. 

I open my eyes, 

Reach for the CD sitting on top of the speaker 

And frisbee it to the window. 

The smack is immediately followed by fluffling 

And flapping 

And a restless peace reigns again.

If they did not shit where they sleep 

I would let them build their nests. 

I did once. 

I watched them take turns sitting on the eggs, 

Shitting around the nest edges as they did so. 

And the babies hatched and also shat. 

One day the drain got blocked 

And the balcony became a pond. 

The nest was soaked – 

A soggy, shitty mess 

And the babies had to move out 

To the other end of the balcony 

Until the pond evaporated. 

When they flew away I had the drain unblocked 

And cleaned the shit from the balcony. 

Dirty little fuckers.

2 thoughts on “Fucking pigeons!”

  1. Oh, I love this, Julia ♥️ The first poem I read on your website (Fucking Pigeons). It made me laugh. Thank you

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