1. Your hair. It’s a nest. Twigs and figs. Ribbons of blue and scratchy pickings of yellow straw braided, weaved, knotted into a bowl shape upon your head.
2. You are dead. The birds have come to tuck into your eyeballs and pick at your brow. You confuse them when you move and they must follow, impulsively chasing the stench of your rancid skin. Stay still and the ordeal will be over sooner. You’ll begin your own flight up into the blue and white.
3. You are in a musical. “Marlene,” you say, “you are my sunshine. You are my summer days and nights and those cold times in front of the fire, too.” The script cues birds and the backstage crew manoeuvres a few levers so that some bright, winged creatures appear above and behind and around your head. Marlene undoes the ribbon around her chin, removes her bonnet, climbs off her bicycle, and sings.
4. Your laugh. It’s a blessing that it does not sound like hyenas or rhinos, something that would come charging and kill us, if you just so happened to giggle.
5. You are having an affair. With that man who works at the Botanical Gardens. The one in that strapping leather belt with the silver ram buckle. I suppose you like his beard, too, that rough edge. It would explain why you meet always in the aviary, only after eight, when it’s dark. Birds appear when both of you are near.
6. Your ears. Downy lobes like petals. Birds mistake you for a flower and themselves for bees. From a branch, they dive towards you, wish perplexedly to pollinate you, but just cheep meaninglessly beside your face. You motion them away but they soon reappear, continually mistaken by your petal-like ears.
7. You’re a baby. Birds like babies. Fine hair. Little toes.
1 comment:
Oh, I don't like this one, birds don't suddenly appear around me, they just shit all over me and squawk at me with the infernal sounds of hell. Birds are evil, they are not cute, only birds that can be eaten are good birds. if pollinating needs to be done, I'll do it, I will bounce around the garden singing sweet heavenly sounds, Not squawk or shit but pollinate beautiful flowers, Butterfly's are ok I am fine with butterfly's. Could it be because My name means butterfly? Yes So I will pollinate (Don't worry I will wear clothing)
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