Tuesday, April 1, 2008

If Birds Have Wings

My mouth in a constant watered state
Pavlov and the dog in waiting
I’ll soon spit my rage
Directly into her face


your tiny caged one
i wait for those small seeds used to lure
one false move, slip of the thumb
and i am split in half

chirp

your fingers
mildly grasp my pulsing neck
warming
warning
reminded of your power



© 2008 Amanda A. Abraham

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