Divingdinless

On ledges of vertigo falcons,
I left behind some crumbs for flying
critters
Sparrows, some nightingales, a lark,
an unborn human, yet
crawling, diseased and famished.
The pigeon puked the distilled sugar
For yet to come
In, to that above,
Where neither God nor demon perched
Fearing the fall.

The peak was flat, a bed of stone
A penthouse suite
For those who flew, so they could rest
Before arching, above the diving rest.