Poetry Blog by Marnanel Thurman

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Pigeons

Pigeons, to me, were always signs of hope:
even the whirl of wings against the air
would right me, show me once again the scope
of who I was and whose I was and where;

as when, in one deep shock of vertigo
I saw the city lie beneath my ledge
as flocks of pigeons played a mile below
and kept my feet from straying near the edge;

as blinking blinding water from my eyes
I rose again to re...

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there'll be four and twenty guys

Now, the world is very wide
(seven seas from side to side)
and it holds a million ways to tell a tale,

And you'll broaden your horizon
When the work you lay your eyes on
Isn't always European, straight, and male.

If you've ever been and gone
to a panel at a con
I'm assuming you're familiar with the sight:

There'll be four and twenty guys
Who are listed for the prize
And EVERY SING...

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