Augury - Poem by Richard George
Gulls, I thought first; but they don't
skein like the grey-shirt bully-boys,
and these wings, ragged-edged
as sails the morning after Trafalgar
challenged Audubon. As though in Rome
I grappled with ignorant
geometries of flight-path
for the words to describe the future,
the innocence of a plague
across steppe, snow and sea that kills its messenger.
The bird of death is a no-bird.
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