dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: feathers

Under feathers

Huddle all the dark,

Sharp things of the world.


The bird womb breeds

Beaked fury that scurries

On Swiss-army knives,

All blades bared.


Like sharp treasures

In pockets


Their cries send needles

Through veins, trains

Whistle more subtly

Than the winged refrains

Of my flightless fear.