Sprawled in the Noise

Black feathers dull, wet with rain,

broken wing splayed on cracked concrete.

The usual hum of passing feet

beats over a silent defeat.

I step, stop—look back, the harsh cut

of stillness slicing the city’s buzz.

A small body folded, not meant to last,

tiny ribs against a world that does.

No song left, no lift or drift,

just a stillness pressed to the ground.

The sidewalk claims the fallen bird—

love caught short, without a sound.