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
