when i was greener, you told me stories--
eskimo-kissed my flat nose to sleep and
lured me conscious with bacon by mornings.
when you were gone, I would live in your word--
pull your DNA from the backs of stamps,
and recreate you in my flightless bird.
when prison released you, he left his cage--
I buried his corpse in your new backyard.
and my brain found the time to disengage.
when you said you won't watch me suicide
today, I pulled the warmth out of my drink--
gathered the courage to tell you: I tried.
we left my wings, rotting, without headstone--
I cannot aviate without my will
perhaps I'm prepared for the great unknown.
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