After a dry spell of living,
I went outside today
and found a small bird,
plucked and defeathered,
and made of bones, and spilling
onto the pavement.

I had to know what pieces could be salvaged,
so with the bird by my side, I followed the road
as far as it would lead me, and it took me to heaven.

I showed god the bird and he said poor thing
and I said well can you fix it
and he said   no.   so I asked him,

having suffered all the small injustices of living,
when there would be a big one,
so I could complain properly.

He shrugged, and said he didn’t know,
and we held a funeral for the bird.