of birds and bodies

I am a bird sometimes.

I am a bird sometimes in the way that I am small and fragile and would like to be cupped in your hands.

I am a boy in the way that a dog is, all scruffy hair and skittish and I need to run sometimes like I have nowhere to go.

I am a girl in the way that demons were once angels, do you understand?

In the way that a girl is a creature filled mostly with desire and a boy just doesn’t know better and a person knows how to love, does that make sense?

In the way that I have two hands and one beating heart and in the way that I’d like a campfire voice and a reckless smile, in the way that I know who I am when I’m with you and when I am home alone in the quiet dark.

In the way that I am yours and you are not mine, in the way the two headed calf died, in the way that these days I am more old than young, do you get it?

In the way that we are all stardust, in the way I was born from dirt and will return to grovel in its slumber, in the way I am beating my wings, do you see?

I am a bird sometimes.

Do you understand?