i stiched three birds together
to make a flock. licked the thread
before i slipped through the needle's head.
everything is a tight window. 
in my shop, i consider blood 
& how to adhere one bone to another.
taxidermied a six legged chicken 
& watched it scurry through my dusk-thoughts.
each day, in the nearby woods i'm watching 
a sapling challenge the adjacent trees.
i hold my arm up to a bright lamp
to see my blue veins like tree roots.
lay in the sun & dream of giving myself
a pair of feathered wings. i need 
a lover to place them though. someone
with a steady hand. someone else 
who thinks of the hem between bodies 
& souls. someone else who believes blood
should flow like rivers. i practice
on myself sometimes. i take a button
& sew it into my chest. little useless thing.
in the graveyard, everyone is 
reduced to material. i go with my trow
& my bucket to search for new parts.
dirt smudged knees. do you judge me?
we are all making do. what i create 
is already there. if you place your arm
next mine i'll show you
were the veins could mesh. underneath
the forest trees roots nudge 
& wrap around one another. a catelog
of twist ankles. this is only natural
to want to make breathing piecemeal.
a thread of thunder also resembles 
a bright root. my veins run skyward.
i'm spreading the system. the flock flies.
all three heads scream. dissapears
into the woods. i'll let you see
my scissors. i'll let you touch 
the needle. just a needle nothing more
& soon the body will rise. taller than
the sapling. lungs like wings.
heart like a windup toy. we will talk
for hours in the basement. 
i'll teach him to hold 
the needle steady. here are where
i want my wings. here is the roof
i need to spring from. 

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