New poem

VISION

for christina

I dreamt of you sitting alone on a wet dirty bench

throwing bread crumbs at pigeons and crows,

saying many things to them but they were just happy to eat

they’d had their fill of words from humans, bread was enough

for them to feign to listen, it gave them another day,

you tossed crumb after crumb, each a piece of your story

poor animals they didn’t know they were being poisoned

by your femme fatale curse but luckily they were immune.

But you went on about being loved and throwing that away

willingly because to the beautiful love is always dispensable

but then you grew old and your story became bits and pieces

forgotten by paths to glory or infamy or being stuck between

mediocre days and simply getting by,

you did do that you got by, had a daughter, hurt others until you grew old

and men became wiser, now you sit alone on a bench

in this city that never knew your name or beauty

where city pigeons and crows just ask for a few more crumbs

without all the sing-song words of a spinster.