Sacred Pigeons
They are all over the mosques
Gray clouds of wings and saintly flies
It is a kind of secret more
Than the beliefs can hold
The way the birds are fed
Shows how our souls met
At the crossroads of holy and mundane
In one tiny bit of corn
Secular rules horn
What is left of divinity
God Damn Organisms
Frankenfood in pigeons’ corn
To feed us to the end
When all is metamorphosed
In Mother Nature’s porn...
Ayten Suvak
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