Pigeons: public access poem 03/16/2021

Wrote this poem on a lively reddit public access broadcast. I wanted to keep funky formatting to a minimum, stripping the poem down, let it wheel about in a cage.

Pigeons

I may not live here much longer.

It shows in my poems, the fear

of leaving another place:

ensuring all the dust 

beneath the couch finds 

itself back inside the envelope,

flush with fresh coordinates.

I haven't gotten all my books

from the last move yet. 

Glubbing flounder, ballooning 

skyline to skyline

now graduated into room to room. 

Tawny helium depletes 

and tactile recognition

along with it, sundial 

accuracy, skyward clockwork

appears sophomoric

once Atlantis is underwater. 

A penpal told me she breathes

in yellow helium daily,

until all she can manage is 

sending a pigeon to my address. 

I adore her calligraphy,

but I hardly have food for myself

let alone all these pigeons.