The stuff that comes out a bird's mouth.
i can speak of anger
fluent in hard words
clenched jaw
balled up fist
tight-lipped mouth
that allows no human words
i can speak of anger
sudden blindness
urge to wrap your hands
around a throat
around the neck of a bat
and swing for the cheap seats
but instead
i will whisper to you
of forgiveness
that soft feather
brushing against your cheek
and beg for the same
——
a piece of me, a fractured piece of me
and a piece of you, just as jagged
they try to fit to together
–teeth of mismatched gears–
where motion should be smooth
instead the sound of snapping glass bones
screams of angels with cinder wings
bits and pieces falling wetly to the floor
the machinery stops so we mop up the blood
and try again
each time there is less and less of me left
each time there is less and less of you left
this is why we break
unevenly matched where there should be symmetry
but when the gears meet at last–we transcend
