My garden is full of mechanical birds 
they flutter freely
build real nests,
splatter synthetic shit 
with abandon. 
The feathers are painted 
by gifted interns 
paid nothing 
but allowed to hold a bird
once a week.
I track the flock
on my phone until 
tapping the screen 
brings them back to my shed
where I pull apart wires,
break fragile necks,
watch the light fade,
then in the morning 
solder the world 
together again.

John Porter is a poet based in Gloucestershire. His work has appeared in publications including "The Stinging Fly", "Prole" and "Strix".