A Poem about Humans and Birds that I do not think ever had a title

We stare at each other as kids in a novelty wax museum

The birds put constellations in the sky to remind us our skin is a disguise

We burn our vision through each other as the blue flames on your gas stove flicker

Moving through an apathetic suburban hellscape, the stars have no purpose anymore

We touch each other's smooth shoulders as two dolls with their heads ripped off

There are streetlights to guide the masses and the birds keep flocking to higher branches

We peer into each other's glazed-over eyes with pseudo-saccharic smiles

The birds put constellations in the sky and we tricked ourselves into control

excerpt from dinner after 9, march 2024

IN THE SPIRIT OF MODIFICATION:

Nobody grows up or grows old

They wake up on a sodden mattress deep in the July night from a dream they swore they've had before

They climb through a double-sided mirror to their mother's rom

They fall out through a storm drain after thirty minutes' rest

It comes out to a grocery store where the shopping carts have faces

They draw with their red fingertips on the frosted windows

They look down to see blood in the toothpaste washing down the sink

I would give myself to the Earth if it meant to see a fervent change in the parts of me that are unwilling to leave.

excerpt from dinner after 9, march 2024