She asked a question, coughed. Then asked
again.
He strained to hear her. “What?” he said, perplexed.
Her lips moved, tongue articulated. But
the wind tore her words like shards of glass
from a crash-scene window, strewed them round
the pavement, silent witnesses to unknown,
unknowable pain. He glanced across the deck.
A pigeon sat there cooing, or he thought
it cooed. He couldn’t hear it. Like an ass,
he asked again: What did you say? She frowned.
She leaned in closer to shut out the wind.
“I said” – but then the dove unfurled its wings,
heaved up into the air, flew overhead,
and shit on whatever she would have said.
He strained to hear her. “What?” he said, perplexed.
Her lips moved, tongue articulated. But
the wind tore her words like shards of glass
from a crash-scene window, strewed them round
the pavement, silent witnesses to unknown,
unknowable pain. He glanced across the deck.
A pigeon sat there cooing, or he thought
it cooed. He couldn’t hear it. Like an ass,
he asked again: What did you say? She frowned.
She leaned in closer to shut out the wind.
“I said” – but then the dove unfurled its wings,
heaved up into the air, flew overhead,
and shit on whatever she would have said.