Something
Boy, I see you, turn up day after day, crouch
by the pond, assortment of snacks, hold out
a hand or stand still as air. Trackies, oversized
tee, slowly scattering feed, pigeons land on
shoulders that carry the world, there’s room
for a thing that touches and breathes. They peck
your hair, your old man on a bench watches,
chin merged with chest, look of a man who
lost something.
Nora Blascsok is a Hungarian poet based in Brighton. Her most recent work can be found in Streetcake Magazine, Harana Poetry and the Babel Tower Notice Board and is forthcoming in Porridge Magazine among others. Her Twitter handle is @NBlascsok