Orchestrating the plumes of cascading pigeons
bursting from the iridescent fountain like a sunburst

And waving the baton of a trembling rook in his right hand,
Pinched in triumph – index and middle finger, thumb,
Suspended in air like words from God’s lips --

Matt crashes the piece down
And the circle throttles – explodes counter-clockwise

And the pigeons cover the sky in a million scattered blotches
As the people standing by idly surrender
and succumb.

- by the IOD