From the second floor

beggar children swoop

and hop

and peck

amongst the traffic

like tiny fierce birds

fingers snap

sharp as beaks

and eyes black as addiction

miss nothing

but later in the street

the small hands on my arm

are not claw sharp

or dusty edged with feathers

they feel like the hands

of all the children I love

shaking off their entanglements

breaks my heart

but we have been told

many times

not to feed these birds

even though their hunger will flutter after us

all the long way home


About Mikaela

I am an artist and writer living in the Perth Hills
This entry was posted in India, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Beggarbirds

  1. DIERS says:

    Stop making me read these. I can’t keep coming here.

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