I am walking down the hallway
from the front room
where the computer is
past the living room
where Charlie Brooker is
(being clever
about the week's news)
or it might be Jimmy Carr
(I can't see him, only hear)
and someone who sounds a bit like Lauren Laverne
or who might be any one
of a number of smart
sassy
women
and in the middle of the hallway
(which is tiled with its original 1896 tiles, some of which are broken)
there are feathers
I am going to the kitchen
(from the front room, past the living room)
to get a new pack of cigarettes
having smoked the last one of the last pack
while trying to make myself on a photo
look like me
or the me I think I look like
when I see the feathers
There's an almost-intact wing
all of a piece
perfectly
beautiful
tiny fluffy down-like whispers of feathers
scattered
(some of which are stuck to the floor
but I don't know this
until I try to
pick
them up)
I think oh wow how beautiful
And then what I do
is
find a piece of white card
(which I have to rip off the back
of a document I was given years ago and is called
Engaging Fathers in their Children's Learning)
and
with it
I scoop up
the almost-intact wing
and
the tiny fluffy down-like whispers of feathers
I take the piece of white card
with the wing and its whispers
through the kitchen
I put it on the table
I spray it
I spray it with permanent repositional adhesive
(the point of
permanent repositional adhesive
being that it sticks things to other things
and lets you move them around a bit until they make a pleasing arrangement
and then you can just leave
the whole thing
alone
and it will stay there)
The permanent repositional adhesive
has an unexpected side effect. It
coats the feathers,
covers them
enfolds them
keeps them safe
It keeps them so safe
(in their dead beauty)
that I go back
I go back to the hallway where the rest of them are
and I scoop them up, too
on a piece of paper that came in the post
and says that from 11 APR 11 the amount of benefit I receive will change
and I spray them
as well
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