Flight Patterns (Catherine Raine, 2024)

Read by the author

Beside the fractious traffic,

I march with office-pleasing gait,

eyes curtained by routine duties

that hustle my thoughts down corridors of grey.

*

Proceeding at speed below tall wires

that sag from the weight of many pigeons,

I fail to notice their common gawk,

beaks turning as one

to draw a hungry line in the sky

from perch to curb across the busy street

to lock on a red bag of broken bread,

gift of a grandmother in a woolen cape.

*

Afraid of frowns from managers,

I miss the flock’s initial swoop,

a curve like the well of a serving bowl

that lilts up higher to spoon its length

and reach the top of median’s pole.

*

The final phase in two-part flight

demands a steeper drop from middle mast

to scattered morsels that stop

in an arc at the woman’s feet.

*

Because I stride beyond the scene,

I never learn what motivates

the pigeons’ dives in calligraphic loops,

the cursive strokes that spell, “Sustain our need!”

*

But I want to understand how Desire

shapes direction and contour of flight

in geometric cadence from poles to earth,

and welcomes both punctual and late

to arrival’s abiding feast.

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