downtown is dead

downtown is dead

even the pigeons
don’t go down there anymore
my reflection in the buildings
looks like a ghost

the city killed the pigeons off
put up spikes they just built nests in
put up poison
sent them flying in circles

‘til they got lost
or dropped dead
the city was tired
of their crap
cleaning it
over and over

the city hates its poor
and everyone knows
pigeons are poor man’s doves
the city does not have doves

the city announced last year it was time
to start killing the geese

they were becoming
a nuisance
so common
so everywhere

the city would rather have
an ostrich or an emu
a roadrunner
but only if it owns a home

I keep looking for the pigeons
the lavender gray fringes

the smoky white tufts
the free
-range yolky eyes watching back
while they peck and gather
and peck and gather

no one else even notices they’re gone
which, of course, feels like a test
who else am I supposed to share these
sideways glances with

how else do you keep time
how else do you know where you are

if not for the birds
singing you the chorus of a place
showing you its colors
saying yes, we see you, you are here

and I am here I am I am
I am I am I am I am I am

by Suzi Q. Smith

Suzi Q. Smith

Suzi Q. Smith is an award-winning poet, author, interdisciplinary artist, music maker, and dreamer of dreams who lives in Denver, Colorado.

Also by the Author:

• Toast World: Where Have All the Diners Gone?
• Dear Denver
• jazz