ISSUE 21
It emulates another living bird
Rewrite - Tallulah Howarth
Spit ‘Unwilling’ into the Sink
I You’ve squabbed your chance now. Finking too hard will always make you squab your chances. Dream in your head pufft out of your ears. Tu much talking. Tu much daytime. Tu much washing dishes and listening to your mousehate. She says we all dream of conflict. This reminds you – your dad said “There is no muvva figure in the house anymore” and my mum said “You don’t need to tell her that, look at her hair.”
II On my first day here, I join the staff members for frokost. Salater: gulerødder, courgetter, sød kartoffel. I am very welcome. I think of how when someone is visiting the UK, we don’t say “you are very welcome.” We might say “that’s cool.” Maybe it is because we do not have patriotism or pride towards our country. Maybe they are only being so welcoming because they are hosting me. Maybe it’s because I am a professionel here. There is not much I can follow in the conversation, far less I can contribute. Mostly I sit in silence, letting the sounds of Danish wash over me like a sound bath. This arrangement suits me quite well.
III so we all dream of arguing becoz doing it all day isn’t enough. Don’t feel good about the bombing. Images of pain for breakfast. The British Consulate is very aware of everything going on. They have logged your concern.
IV bluebells are you nearly at the natural conclusion
and does that scarf strangle you daily or is it to accessorise your cold lonely unkisst neck
V Stop putting words in my mouth. Get your hands out of there.
To the Pigeon that Died in Manchester Victoria Under my Care
You came with us easily. You allowed yourself to be scooped up by my jacket, your little bird head drooping like an afterthought. We ran to the station, no time to scan our tickets. The ticket checker looked at us – you, frail victim-version of a pigeon he had never witnessed before, the panic probably in these kids’ eyes – and let us through. From Leeds through to Manchester, we whispered to you, stroked your head. You were holding on.
It is standard practice to warm a sock full of rice in the microwave when attempting to save a pigeon’s life. That way, they will have a chance to nestle against the warmth of another thing, keep their blood flowing. It emulates another living bird. I am sorry we didn’t have rice handy or access to a microwave in those pressured minutes. All that seemed to make sense was buying a Greggs vegan sausage roll. I don’t know what it is like to die next to a Greggs vegan sausage roll almost the size of your body. I don’t know if, in your last moments, you thought the warmth was coming from a very strange-looking bird.