Blackbird Away (published in Raven Chronicles 2017)
The five bones I use for talking
restrict my repertoire. If all there is to do with speech
is mimic words, then I choose wings. My black plaits wade
in stagnant breeze, awaiting further
demarcation. They shield my fragile back.
I perch at the window watching alabaster columns
sway like towering chimneys.
My bones shift, ligaments stretch, extending
from my obsessive backbone. Gravity holds fast
but the secret of my keratin
amasses depth and glistens at the peak of sun. Sensory feathers
alert me to a downwind.
I feel my scapula expand wide to the momentous periphery.
Intuition yields
as I become contour and direction. I can come to life again,
manipulate the wind.