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What The Birds Are Trying To Tell Me I was one of those children from years ago moving aside my shirt to show my glimmer let me think on the value I gave a boy to leave a mark as he moved his head at an angle I let him dress in his mother’s necklaces caress my breast put him to bed why each part of his body needed sleep each part and I could leave him I did not have to be good I only had to turn my knees a certain way like the curve of a handle my body carapace have birds forgiven me heal they tell me a crack in the wall as fine as shorn hair my body only a knuckle on a hand reaching for a shirt feels formal like an act of survival today is more forgiving let me rest which means they tell me deliverance
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