in your empty head
whilst you were out
betting on bullets downtown
you cannot hide it
twigs & fluff poke out
from your wet eyes
the robin has laid her eggs
just behind your gaze
it was when you were taking
the doors from the doorframes
when you were counting
the sounds of coins
dropped on stone
and when you burnt that small house
by the woods east of the river
the robin was watching
the robin was looking for a home
and that’s her orange-throated husband
you can hear piercing the leaves
with his demands to the gods
did you not notice
that little fighter bobbing
and singing his challenges
in the hedge by the lamppost
to which you tied those nine
frightened promises?
like a little fireball bouncing
and sparking song
whilst his wife entered
your derelict thoughts
he marked your corners
and mapped your ways
the robins have nested
she is keeping her eggs warm
in your cold head
Mark Goodwin
Illustration Nick Victor