Sing a Song……….

of sixpence.
A pocket full
of loose change.

But not a silver coin
only old bus tickets.
And sweet wrappers.

When the birds
were dismantled
from the heap

of feathers and
wings – they were inedible.
Full of shot and maggots.

The manager was in
his bank counting
out his bonus.

The Queen was in
her palace oblivious
to their avian plight.

And the Latvian maid
was conscious of time
slipping away

with menu choices.
Free from elegant
dishes of winged creatures.

Sing a Song……….

While Hitchcock quietly
observed Tippi.

And the birds
rose as one,
from their edifice
of plumage and beaks

inhabiting the island
snipping off appendages
as they flew into the
blood soaked sunset.

Ah Hollywood we love you.