you don't care for birds
I’d like to be a lot of things for you, a river, a rock, a shoulder, a fox, anything you need, anything you want, but I’m not that flexible, not really, when I twist my arms back, when I stretch my shoulders out too far the muscles pull to tearing, become twine pulled taught, stuck in avian forms, stuck with the birdcage wrenched open.
A harsh warble of a song.
A nest in where it doesn’t belong.
A parasite, the victim gone.
Could they be something for you?
I’m all vulture and crow waiting roadside for roadkill on a road untraveled, you’re all pigeons and starlings living lives in places people are, maybe you’re no bird at all, but I’m no better in my grounding, my clipped wings, my cracked eggshells, my walking on them around you, I’m barely a bird, a fledgling at best, but that holds no more appeal, if you don’t like birds why would you want one that lacks in all that makes a bird something.
A moot point.
15 January, 2023