little finches in your head. and they pinch, pinch, pinch
but what is left to wake up.
awakened: rising shadows, rigid hands.
bandage tightly – does it remind you of the rings you used to wear? where you belonged. you used to be
a lady of many rings, more bird than nest. (the harpies scream)
(harpies sing of truth and times that are, gloating. we are so little. the present falls on us
and we are so much less.)
you need to send apologies to the finches. you plant acacias. you call your ears
traitors
and then there are dreams that leave you with a silent glow. the shadow forgotten, the past
engaged in ballroom dances, vivid. you recall vividly. there are rings on your hands
and you know all things in dreams
and you have birds in your head because there is more to find than in the sun.
the harpies scream.
(you do not. you are silence, glowing.)