Notes for the Newly Winged

Flesh in a porcelain finish—because breaking apart was

only the first step.

Death: a thrift store mirror, cracked in all the bright places.

Roadkill. How it talks back.

Question : Are we there yet?

Feel the wind coming in fours.

Listen to the seasons galloping. The hunters dropping

quail mid-flight.

Kneel if you’ll take me, lips flushed past open.

Kneel any... See more