Birdhome

FinsburyParkCarrots

Birdhome

Plastic jingly balls, see through,
swing, four in a chain from a ceiling bar,
and a mirror-swing-jingly-bell
swings too, shining paneglow on steel bars;

Two perches sit affixed at happy angles,
one with a plastic Tweety Pie
sat on the low left end, beak kisses
denting its yellow bulb head of mirrorshine;
the other the route to two troughs,

one of brimming brown seed, one of water.
Now an added feature. A human hand slowly
gestures through the open swingdoor
with a bowl of banana bits and carrot shavings, high piled.

Wire quivers with shiny echoing giggling wonder,
the wonder of a small cube of home within a home.

FinsburyParkCarrots

Upon the slidedoor press -
a purple comb
a coach and horses paperweight

On the mantlepiece, two fingerless woollen gloves
and a tear off calendar
with a yellowing front page

Upon a window chair -
green felt cushion covers
set in a deepening dip

And on the wall above the cold stove
a battery clock
stopped at ten to six