Multitudes
I carry many deaths
inside me though
not as a cat is said to
or a saint bristling
with arrows.
Not as an oak
in winter flies
its few brown flags
of surrender.
Not the way the womb
sheds its lush red lining.
Not the way a virus storms
the cockpit of a cell
but the way a man
feeding pigeons in the park
watches as they wander
off when his pockets
are empty.
– Art Nahill
Art is a general physician at Auckland Hospital who emigrated to NZ from the U.S. ten years ago with his kiwi wife and two boys and now enjoys rugby, cricket, and watching American politics from afar.
