Good Neighbors
by Jill Mceldowney
sends me pigeons sends me letters.
Come home
said the letters and I know a miracle
is only a miracle after suffering so I press two fingers to my head
trigger my thumb, kill the birds, eat the birds.
How did I do so much damage by miming
marriage—June, July, August. We were going to be
just friends. What we intended
becomes memory mimed blood on the floor,
a pigeon’s slack wing, single unfocused eye
mistaken for an angel, someone you loved
coming home but only in a dream.
You don’t deserve an answer but I go to your life, I drive all night,
your neighborhood is nobody’s star, a pit, a conclusion
but the travel makes me certain
your letter is an act of God. There is a God
I am convinced when I arrive to every light
in the house switched on, my poor idea of Heaven. You
leaning in the doorway while I stand on the front lawn.
The neighbors have some questions.
Jill Mceldowney
Jill Mceldowney is the author of the full length collections Otherlight (YesYes Books), winner of a North American Book Award, and ALYDAR (YesYes Books forthcoming 2026), which was a finalist for the National Poetry Series. She is the founder and editor of Madhouse Press. Her previously published work can be found in journals such as Tupelo Quarterly, Prairie Schooner, Muzzle, and other notable publications.