Dive-Bomb

DIVE-BOMB

The magpie
swoops
in
all at once,
come
and gone so fast
that it might be
a magician’s appearance,
a pulse,
a ripple in
things

It dips
and interrupts
and the
violence of its arc
is
hardly apparent
exists
only in that moment
when it’s me
it nearly cuts

Then it’s
perched
on a power line,
its warning accomplished,
telegraphed
there
from my orbit
and it is
part of its aura,
this
eliding
of the intermediate –

It could occupy
any point,
totemic, ominous
it can sit there
in denial of
the moment
it came
killing
close

Meanwhile
on the ground there are
magpies
downy, grey,
unrealised
they hop in some confusion
after the
seagulls in the park
clumsy
on their feet, still
only initiates
in the ways
of the dive and the warp