A fat pigeon
Sat on my chest; solid and smug.

It's feathers grey and stunted
No flights of fancy here
It's beak sharp,peck-pecking,peck- pecking on the same spot.
It's glassy little eyes, beady and peering, short sighted and looking only down.
It's scrawny little legs scratching, stiffly stepping forward, no veering
But in a predestined groove.

It constricted my breathing
And the air that fuelled me was dark and dank.
I stalled and stuttered
And all roads led uphill through rain soaked mill towns struggling on the edges of
Barren moorland.

And then the pigeon left-
Just lifted its fat, grey body
Like a spacecraft in vertical flight
And my chest expanded
And my lungs filled with sweet air and my trapped self left the confines of my rib cage
And levitated
Into a clean and white and airy space
With windows flung full wide
And blue sky and breeze and a seagull calling
And a new day beginning.