New Mirage Journal

Red letter day

(i.m. three unknown refugees)

Sky and light

from this height

so startling and clear

Tied by tribe

and fear,

they stand on the ledge

choose a final freedom -

fly through a hundred

feet of air

catenated by the wind-

slowed red tape

of final warnings,

to slip

the net closing in

on their safe haven.

All that’s left,

dusty footprints

on a window sill

torn safety net

fluttering

on Red Road.

Darkness

wraps round

a Glasgow morning.

Did the outweighed sun

close its eyes

for that brief moment?