The Experiment

Warning: This is an experiment.

She walks out the window.
Floats in the air.
Walks in the street, stops for a stare.

She takes a stone, maims that pigeon.
Watches it glide and flutter.
The splinter of its beak bent like a slur.

She is the Lost.
Is there a burial ground
For those not yet Found?

Time is ticking now.
But the hourly chime, simply
Cannot sound for those who cannot mime.

Warning: End of Experiment.