Mute cacophony…

Like pigeons
they flock by my window
Pests with wings;

Words
that didn’t sound
that didn’t write
that were stillborn

Their cooing
and cacophony,
Runs late into night;
Until I shoo them away

Until my window,
frames nothing again;

I begin my day
scrubbing my porch
replete
with infinite patterns
of words’
silent revenge

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One thought on “Mute cacophony…

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