Bird with Third Wing

inspired by a painting completed following a series of dreams that skulked my childhood

curse that coal bird
rounding my

flyin’ lame as crooked
with a haggard
third wing,

bird tumbles,
barreling like balloon
half drunk with

and i’m shaken

‘spite my own scorn
and comfort with

i’d never close in
on capture of
said bird,

now would you pass me
a fistful of capsules n’
sill’s stale glass
of water?

so, i waft as rot and steam
from fever’s bed

and pinky trace each
claw scratch on
my foggy

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