Deus Ex Machina
| The cliff signals like a lonely mouth. No one remembers to build a machine that will save us. How heavy it is to carry each feather and bone toward this cliff. Each owl a flame, too hot to draw into the body, so much of it escapes. Chaos ensues like a talon-less drum. When I wake up, the owls that are my daughters blink, blink off and on like flashlights. |
Division
A stone splits into birds, the birds
into daughters, the daughters into gold
under my tongue. My tongue,
a bridge. Which is to say, I open
my mouth to lay an egg. Or, I can build
something with enough birds
in my hands. I lay another egg, a new world
broken like stone or daughters, golden
bodies split into wings.
