a plethora of birds

oh disastrous me--
milk chocolate melting
pocket full--
gold coin & tin foil teeth--

there are more & more
birds this year i've
noticed-- they 
gossip in the bamboo--

they eat the snow when
we're asleep-- mouths of white 
nameless & shadowed--
they are not a species

but rather they are 
a human emotion-- the 
feeling of being watched--
manifest the flock--

the cacophony of feather
& treacherous bodies--
do you trust the surface
of your skin?

it was me-- i am
the boy who swallows birds--
they come without petition--
perch on my wrists--

i'm tired of asking
other people if they're
ready to accept me--
if they're ready to read  

the parable of my bones 
if they're scared of needles--
if they can see the red
threads stitching my

rib cage from swinging open--
oh, mother, your son is 
scared of birds-- his 
storm is red & he has

tattooed his apologies 
onto his bones too many time-- 
they bell ring with your church--
your son in full of talon

& black beak-- hollowing
himself out like a pumpkin
so that a candle can
rest in his throat--

this is me-- this is me 
watching my own extinction--
like a fairy what is 
a boy who is un-believed ?

if i eat the birds will
they stop calling me that name?
is there enough
room inside myself 

to hold that kind of pain?
there's more & more--
yesterday they followed me
back to my front porch--

tearing the telephone
wires out from the clouds--
sparks falling around me--
the world ends so monstrously 

frequently-- i'm quite used to it-- 
i light candles-- 
i ignore the stories--
clutch like seeds 

oh sometimes i fantasize
about you holding back 
my hair while i kneel--
regurgitating this ache

bird by bird by bird --
that's how you said we
would survive-- one
wing at a time--

i'm so so tired--
i'm so so full

you help extract them 
from my lips-- dry from
feathers-- spitting 
blood & knees--

you tell me you 
trust me-- you tell 
me there are no birds
where we are going--

in this story
you shut the windows 
& we eat peppermint 
pinwheels to ease the sting

left in our mouths--
you open the medicine
cabinet & let
me sleep inside--

you do not tell anyone
you have a son-- 
you will tell the neighbors
that your daughter

swallowed a plethora 
of birds-- died wearing 
tin foil teeth & 
pockets to deep for us

to reach into