Pas de deux III

blind, grubby pigeon
sleeping by your foot
not small enough to
bear grace anymore
not clean enough to
look a real bird
thin, slimy eyes watering
under dust
so proud two beggars
we have been
so clumsy now my feathers
and your words
my pores absorbing warmth
of your nightmares shiver
how much of your music
you have given
the truth of my wings flying
was more pure – I thought
still now I gaze to your
split breath
and pray it will not rain