Every time I go outside, I smell something burning and
hope that no birds have died in the past hour –
some probably have my name or something close, serene creatures
we are connected by a sea of letters first made for greek gods
I worry that I suicidal-think them, play broken wing harps.

A sum of our adjoined parts, a sum of my heart –
I love and I realized everything that has breath can be shattered
that glass is not ever-translucent, it can have feathers or skin.