how r u?

sometimes i get text messages
from the birds. they ask,
"why are you dying like this?"
they ask "how r u?" by which they mean,
"does your species plan to grow wings?"
i sometimes harvest feathers 
in a vain attempt to become a crow.
i would be well suited to that life
of screaming & searching for treasure
in the mouths of dead gods.
instead, i have fingers to attempt to.
lately, i have been holding them up
to the sun & waiting for them to grow eyes.
but, to answer their question. i am 
glowing. i am on fire in a good way
& in a bad way. good in that sometimes
i cannot sleep i am so angry. i search the house
for a reminder that there is love enough
to fill every vessel in the house. that,
on the right day, we could welcome a cloud
into our house. comb her fur. feed her pickles.
bad in the sense that i do not ever sleep
through the night. bad in the sense that
my uncertainty about the world we need
sometimes transforms into doubt.
i start to build a bunker full of wisteria trees.
do you know you can eat
the flowers? all & all i am catastrophic.
that is how i am. 
i am chasing butterflies. i am so in love
that sometimes i forget i was once alone
walking through a blizzard in february
dreaming of boys just like the boy i love.
i don't ever text back to the birds.
after all, they are only ever a few breaths away.
i wave to them in the window.
i keep my original answer. i am glowing.
i open my mouth to show them
the fire i've built there. magazines 
& eyelashes burn there. the birds reply,
"we are glowing too."