i cut a hole in your face
for the birds to come out.
first the little song birds
then a raven & a vulture.
we were all garbage that night,
leaving our fingernails on each other's
windowsills. i caught a fairy 
under a water glass
& told no one. left it there
until it turned into a smudge.
who will we trust with our
puppy-dog stories. i sold my teeth
for a few dimes. my pocket
had a trap door & i scattered
all my gun powders away.
the sand is aching 
with skeleton-thoughts.
oh that moon shadowed us
like cutouts. i caught your birds
& kept them in the closet
where they writhed & asked
for a key to the basement.
i thought... what could a bird
want with all that dirt?
you eluded your own mouth
so we talked writing to each other
on a chalk board. light bulbs 
turned tulip. all that pink.
what could i name knuckle for.
we ate shaved ice 
from the floor. i told you
it's not that clean but you 
waved me off. after everything.
after everything. fuck dishes.
fill the sink with syrup.
wash out feet from the lip
of the tub. your ripe talons.
my fresh paws. the fairy isn't dead
don't worry. i saw her awake 
on the other side of the window.
she was smashing gnats.
what a good creature. 
the basement instrument rattles.
i can see you. all of you.
your turning inside out. 
a bone. a plastic slide. 
a soup ladle & a sweater.
all glimmering with pink sputter.
remnants of the birds.
our fingers whittled down
to the bud. 

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