All the other birds have fled
Disturbed, as magpie makes perch
Upon the dirt-dust iron hook
Where a selection of old nuts hang

His blue gaze is hammer and nails
As he fixes me in place, and then
Stabs a hanging half coconut shell
Repeatedly. Full of fat and gristle,

The carrion hang on the feeders
Was not there til he arrived, and now
As he flies, he leaves behind
A small lamb whose eyes are gone.

Another one now takes her turn
Her clean beak is too soon soiled
She flies guiltily off. And I,
I watch the clean bones drop.

And as for the flak of trembling feather
They learned as much as they watched
And in turn, in turn, flap to floor and search
And slurp up all the fallen scraps…

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