feathers in the yard lead to an eaten blue bird

i miss the way you used to 
make a swing set out of my mouth.
back & forth. catching mosquitos
& promising to make them fireflies.
god is a bread crumb trail 
devoured behind you by song birds.
i found a gun in the attic & tested the trigger
pointing at the window. what if
it had gone off? i wasn't prepared
for more fragments than i already have.
flushing a razor down the toilet
because i don't trust myself.
i walked outside. it was the spring
of our elegy--the one with televisions
& a firepit. social distancing 
meaning six feet in all directions.
bodies beneath the dirt, 
building their pebble collections.
to be human is the gather. i went
into the yard to be alone. sometimes
i used to just walk back & forth
as a child--letting my mind become
a snake nest. i saw a blue feather
& then another & then another.
oh how you used to lay them for me
all around our apartment
leading to the bedroom then to
your chest. terrariums worth 
of tarantulas. i tell you "you are
a different person" but only 
you are not there. you are not
anywhere at all. when i tell people 
how you pulled at my threads 
they say "i'm so sorry" as if
a person weren't always a sum of 
all their parts. i want to be 
the skeleton found sometimes.
a blue bird skull. a wing. 
the trail, like a new limb.
here i come. here i was. here i am.