We trace the infestation to a nest
tucked into the eaves outside our bedroom
window. Pigeons’d set up home. They’d laid
a clutch: small, white, plain. Yes, we know the best
tucked into the eaves outside our bedroom
window. Pigeons’d set up home. They’d laid
a clutch: small, white, plain. Yes, we know the best
recourse—hoik the mitey thing out and throw
both eggs—but can’t. So we wait till they succeed,
hoovering bugs for weeks. All we can do
while the couple raises what we’ll never know.
by Ben Egerton
Ben Egerton is the author of two collections of poetry, the most recent of which is Antiphony | Anti-Phoney (Buttonhook Press, 2025). He holds a PhD in Creative Writing (Poetry and Theology) from Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand, where he teaches in the School of Education. Ben is an Associate Fellow at the Rivendell Center for Theology and the Arts at Yale University.
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