In the dead of night I swore you were a bird Wet and bedraggled Scraping pavement with pink, tender talons Soaked as sand, clumps dripping from your skin Jagged feathers, jutting crystals Bulging eyes untouchable as a porcupine Quite a docile animal You Cowered under the stoop, cooing And I thought of letting you in But your underbelly I dance my fingers through the gaps in your dry, cracked ribs Flakes of rusted iron crumble to the Earth Solstice sunlight of the Arizona mesa Cool, dry, burnt, corroded Buried inside my fingernails I should dust you off I should please my Mother Instead I draw your portrait on the wall Stripes and stumps, sharp as the tip of your nose Tilted at invented angles Teetering by degrees we kept as a secret In the grimacing grip of the sliding train doors I caught a strand of hair piercing a thick rubber seal Dancing through an airless vacuum A single glint of auburn Where light cannot be Flapping in the wind All on the wall Hissing and hissing Streaks of dirt, you, on the ceiling Rotting tapestry, disintegrating wings