pigeon shoot take one

as soon as jacob got the 'go ahead,' he went:

steadying his aim on the barn's beam, raising

the gun, bringing down one of the many pigeons

that roost up in the eves, 

over our tractors,

over our tools. 

if i were alone with a pigeon that just

fell, single gems of blood which clumped

and beaded in the dust of the ground,

i would have spread out its wings 

in desperation and naivety, smoothed

and soothed its neck feathers, and placed

the bird somewhere in tall grass, to be 

found later by sankanac's cats, by tamed tigers.

rather, i wiped my nose and witnessed others

spring into action, elbows, forming Vs with

nails on chunks of raised wood, finding axe,

finding the head between two fingers,

finding a bag and the freezer, finding everything

ruffled, rumpled, nothing smooth, only finished.