On a Bird’s Skeleton

The herd mentality of capillaries,
the quiet plumbing clusters
puckered flowers of blood in
each small hollow nook
without the least rattle

later is music, when rhythm, deferred
by the death of the drummer is back
wrist twine
to twinkle resonance of emptied bones
eyes closed while the cackle shakes up
the arm to pinch skin into feather

the last smell,
as faint smoke
hangs there.


One Comment on “On a Bird’s Skeleton”

  1. Josephine says:

    my favourite. something so simple can be turned into such a complex thing in a matter of words. well done!

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