Bird / Boy

I know a boy whose hair lies like one coffee-colored bird—
the wings hang over his ears
and its large head-beak nestles into his brow,
murkising his forehead and eyes.
The bird stays still as the boy—so beautiful
he is an angel—
tells me he is untouched.

I blink. His full lips pale.
How is he a virgin?
I take off my blouse and reveal
myself.

And as I reach to brush the wing
behind his ear
(so as to touch his face),
the bird startles.
Worlds wake up—

MAK MAK MAKAW!
MAK MAK MAKAW!

Stunted wings
clip me,
as bird
boy rises

Together they lift off into nothing,
and I am left
with my blouse open
Wondering.

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