by Melanie Cunningham
Our collars, iridescent violet-green
Shimmer an oily slick of feather ends
Over our scraggy chests.
Warily dart-eyed we serve ourselves
The Willowpattern crumbs from afternoon tea-time.
Presently, distracted teadrinkers are summoned inside;
Day-end heralded by a creeping chill
Which presses toward the indoors,
Which pulls toward time and order
and rules over leaf-dappled ramblings.
A shooing of garden-soiled hands,
The clatter of saucers and we depart.
Our iridescent livery
And sharpsprung sqwarking protestations
bind us to no master.
Exercise - Take the last and second-last lines of this poem, and write a poem that could fit between them. Poem - Andy Quan's 'A word from the feral pigeon'.