it’s for the birds

I’ll keep giving,
but an organ donor is useless if they’re not dead
and if they’ve given away all they have.
I only have one heart, you know.
Tear off pieces like bread,
toss one crumb to the crow and more will appear
until you’re the crazy bird lady in the park
tossing an entire loaf in one afternoon.

They’ll follow you, surround you like a dark cloud.
Buzzards circle over your home.
How do you tell them to leave if they don’t listen?
They stare at you with those stony little eyes and squaw.
How do you tell them enough with a bag of chips in your hand?
They know you are enough, they know you will supply.
Vermin do not remove themselves, the gum doesn’t fall from your shoe.
Stop what you’re doing and pick it up — it’s unsightly!

They will return, they will come back.
If not this bird, then another.
Enough is enough!
My bread is in the trash and I’m going away.
I see stony eyes watching me like birds of prey,
I swear they’re out for blood,
but when the donor is sucked dry
the buzzards come.


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