Poem du jour

First Glance

by BEN WILKINSON

Like that, the sudden hell-bent flap
of a pigeon at the window -
as if livid, bothered

by my lifting some slim volume
from a shelf,
rather than half-trapped,

taking glass for air
and flailing against a trick
of the light as much as itself,

reminds me of that time I saw
what I thought was you
(before I truly knew you)

kissing someone else,
only to find you, minutes later,
strolling up the street I was traipsing down.