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

Forgotten,

Their cries send needles

Through veins, trains

Whistle more subtly

Than the winged refrains

Of my flightless fear.

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