From the corner of the eye of the sea
Orchids spread like plasma
Further into the ground of soil.
Each compliment drew her limbs closer
To the dirt crusted creature.
The bird brought tales of streif
From the east wing of the sun.
She slipped like liquid into these words
And fell heavy toward the belly of belief.  
Sitting upon a rock by the sky,
She stroked his broken neck
From nightfall
Straight into autumn.
She sealed her eyes tight
And gave the bird each ounce of love
Her fingertips could muster.
With each day her skin grew harder
And tiny bones formed beneath fragile flesh.
Weeks turned tragic songs to lullabies.
On the sidewalk of the desert
High in clouds of steam,
Her eye lids fluttered and parted.
She looked upon the furrowed bird in disbelief.
The saddened sight had been replaced
By a lovely little boy.
Her mind, as heavy as her hands.
Tears welled within her eyes
But not one fell
Because her cheekbones had sprouted feathers
And years of stroking and sympathy
Made her weak.
She had become the lowly bird,
And as she glimpsed into his eyes, now blue
He chuckled cruelly at her fragility.
Sympathy burned as rage beneath her ribs.
Lightning struck the sky and she learned
Never to trust a bird
Again.