FALLEN FROM THE NEST

by birdie

they stopped calling.
i am a woman now, clawed
& with feathered-wings. rain rots
out of me. i am but one of a new flock,
we built our nest outside
of the forest, on the ground
we don’t hunt each other
anymore. indulging in the birdbath, we talk
about who we come from &
how they have fallen
out of us. it should not matter.
the fall from the nest. it should not matter.
how who i come from falls out of me
when we talk in the birdbath. when we build
nests on the ground for our flocks. when the rain rots
out of us & we don’t hunt each other
anymore. we’re too busy being
outside. i want to stop calling.
but i am a woman now. clawed &
with feathered wings.