when all the birds have broken their wings
i will find comfort in the warmth of your blood on my hands.
time tells nothing
i reminisce about torn seams
and ***** dreams
as i scrape out remnants of the
purity trapped in the mildew under your floorboards

O Hearken! the lilies are singing to us!
(forever entranced by the acacia with the broken branches)
i have swallowed the frail bodies of the nightingales
and i have promised to protect them with my own flesh;
put your hands within me and you'll know the breaking of their hollow bones

Our God sees everything! how could anyone have a mother?
your ivory rib cage shatters under the weight of a thousand Saviors
as the unforeseen expanses of the universe
blot out what was left of your conscience
(snapped like a toothpick in His holy fingers)
just like those bitter nights when i hear
cassiopeia screaming to be freed of heaven’s chokehold.

O Hearken! kneel for The Great Reprieve!
when all the birds have broken their wings—
oh mercy you, oh mercy me