Columbarium

we are pigeons
we are rats and snakes and cicadas
we live lives in between lives
stuffed in the cracks and eaves and holes
coming out at dawn or dusk or in cycles spanning years
not beautiful or powerful or meaningful
until we rush at you by the thousands
until we swarm and flock and tear at you
until the rhythm of our wings and clicking claws
forces you to look at us
our necks ringed purple green
gold and copper in our eyes
if you’d look at us you’d see we glow
we glow we glow
we glow