I am a multi-striped and greater-spotted hawk.
You may see me in a café as you talk your way
through Battenberg and loganberry tea. Yes
that’s me in the corner of your life; writing out
the lines I gave myself to compensate for all
the times I turned away from compromising
wealth — for each alarm that I ignored about
my failing health — for every high occasion
that I hugely stood my ground — for every
willing no I said when lured by lost and found.
I am a fully-fledged and greatly-diving grebe
performing love-struck dances in those large
revolving doors which suck you in then spew
you out with mannered grieving pokerfaced
yet unresolving middleroaded clipped and
recessed heart unfondling functionary doubt.
If broken was a crazy why and underwater
plunging birds could not only crash-land but
also fly, you’d see me surfing deep beneath
the woeful waves — at least I sorely tried.
© 2012, Alan Morrison