thebird song

11/52 weeks

my mother she
gathers crows’ eyes
at dawn. i find loneliness
easier when it’s just me and no
voices. lights out. sometimes the
birds sing their last songs while
the sun is rising. it’s hard to break
the surface, my dreams are full of
crows’ wings. i hang between
two fading worlds. children
make shadows on the wall
during blackouts. i
lose myself like
a crow in the