Pigeon

by Roland Flint

Originally from Park River, North Dakota, Roland Flint was the author of eight collections of poems, including the 1990 National Poetry Series selection, Stubborn . He received a 1982 National Endowment for the Arts grant and a Discovery Grant from the same auspices in 1970. His work appeared in Triquarterly, Salmagundi, Poetry Northwest, Ohio Review , and The Atlantic , among other publications. He was professor of English at Georgetown University for 29 years and was on the teaching staff at Warren Wilson College and the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. As Poet Laureate of Maryland from 1995 to 2000, he traveled to every county in the state, taking poetry into schools, prisons and hospitals. He died in 2001.

Originally printed in 1991 by North Carolina Wesleyan College Press, Pigeon is now available in this eBook edition. Here are two

He Didn’t Know He Was A
until the day in New York City
When he’d left the rented nest & her
He’s often called a nest & was walking,
Bad hungover from the pre-wedding bash
To his favorite Wolf’s (52nd & 7th)
For bagel, egg & aspirin,
And his path was blocked by
Pigeons & then just one,
Fat, rumpled, grouchy, clumsy,
And he & the pigeon did
A little dance before finding
The paths around, & he thought,
Oh God, I danced like that last night
At the fancy dinner, dressed just
Like a pigeon in the rented tux,
Colliding with the bride’s mother,
Saying some dumb pigeon-yiddish, & pigeon
Dancing, drunk & bumbling,
Stumbling pigeon, plain
As pigeon.

No Sooner Is Pigeon
Coming back some from his loved friend’s death,
Greeting the day again, scratching around, &
News comes another old friend is dead,
Bringing the year’s total to four from cancer alone.
And so the pigeon flies northwest to be there,
His heart aburst with emptiness to witness
His poor old friend all dead & coffined
To comfort as well as he can the widow & child
To carry his friend to the terrible hole
To eat & drink too much (with grief to blame it on)
To visit his aging parents
To take them out to dinner
To cut his broken-wristed father’s steak
To stay two days & nights & mow his mother’s lawn
To speak carefully with them of the bereaved
To toss all night in the creaking bed
In which he was conceived.

Genres: Poetry

58 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1991

Reviews

[j.e.rodriguez · Rating 2 out of 5]

"And he's reminded again / How many deaths would (worse than) kill him: / Like some others this one more."