Years ago, I saw a man jump
in front of a train on the Victoria Line.
Last night, it was as if I took a tube ride back
to that day, whilst making my way home,
on the underground in the dark.
With all the other homing pigeons
released on Friday evening
from shops in Oxford Street
and offices in Leicester Square.
On the platform at Kings Cross
I watched as a young man
stepped across the yellow line
preparing for takeoff. Another bird
with broken wings, who’d lost his way.
Oblivious to the flock, which
checked their bearings on mobile phones.
As the train approached,
the tunnel’s mouth exhaled
thick, warm air, unsettling the dust
on my memories of that other crash landing.
I held my breath and watched him fly home.