He took his shirt off and saw a pigeon
using his chest hair as a nest.
‘How long have you been there?’
he asked the pigeon, in a soft voice,
as not to startle the poor thing.
The pigeon said nothing. It stretched
its wings wide, feathers tickling his nipples,
and pecked his beak in a way as to say,
‘How long has your chest been beneath me?’
The man said nothing. He stretched
his brain to imagine a life without anyone
using his chest hair as a nest.

Carl Burkitt 2024