The Bird

I thought it’d been done
by a cat,
but you said,
an owl, eagle, hawk
after you picked up
the headless body,
wing,
clump of feathers.

You told me there’d been
two birds –
too many pieces
for just one.

But you knew I couldn’t
look at it
or touch it.
So you disposed
of those pieces...
got them out of my sight.
Thanks.
They made me ill.

I still won’t go out back,
where they were.
You missed a foot
and a head.
And I don’t know
how to tell you.

 

All That Glitters

The waters are infested
with piranhas.
Diamond teeth nibble toes,
crunch bone;
scaled mouths suck marrow.
I’ve been here so long
the gem-studded fish
barely notice me
until you dance toward the bank.
I call, but the wind
takes my words to the other shore.
              Your fingers ripple the water’s surface
              as you test to see if
sapphire liquid’s warm enough
              to jump in.
I splash.
              You smile and wave.
Ruby fish gather about me, but
my flesh isn’t sweet enough
to satisfy golden appetites.
I show you my toes,
the rubies pull me under the surface.
              I hear your laugh,
              your splash.
The water turns guilt red.

When I surface,
there’s only semiprecious water,
glitzy piranhas
and me
again.