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literature
keep writing about Wings
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Literature Text
i keep writing about Wings because i am jealous of them
our bird is black,
so the maggot is white.
wings are spread of creatures who delight
in swallowing flies, after flies
have sifted through the throat
of a dead winter's deer.
three perch beside a stump
of mammal. as with every occasion
it is a carcass that brings the family together.
it is said
every organ must be lived in;
our children must be reared in blood.
i am the one who never questioned it,
falling in love with the all-stinking earth.
now no more than a feather chased by wind,
the way i have blown; a winged thing,
no more than a quill.
our bird is black,
so the maggot is white.
wings are spread of creatures who delight
in swallowing flies, after flies
have sifted through the throat
of a dead winter's deer.
three perch beside a stump
of mammal. as with every occasion
it is a carcass that brings the family together.
it is said
every organ must be lived in;
our children must be reared in blood.
i am the one who never questioned it,
falling in love with the all-stinking earth.
now no more than a feather chased by wind,
the way i have blown; a winged thing,
no more than a quill.
watching the way that winged things interact allows one to suggest to themselves that they can have wings as well. scavenging birds and flies/maggots are our neighbors and ultimately the decomposers of rotten flesh. have you ever seen a fly fuck and vomit on your lambchop? it's like a warm relish. have you ever seen a raven stab a man's eyes out? you've seen too many movies. have you ever seen a silverback gorilla kill three men with a single rush of rage? this poem doesn't cover that, yet. i know a beautiful woman that lets me fuck her and i am ashamed of that.
© 2008 - 2024 getbeneathmebird
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Aaaahhh, I love this so much.