I am five when I tell my mother that I have been eaten. My mum returns as a crow, she reads up on anorexics; picking at bones with her circled beak...
Starlings setting flight, your voice is an echo We don’t know terrain like oceans, don’t recognise borders Except those of fingers the bridge of hands
You never knew what I felt your voice a tolling bell, death jam; calling me out from the shadows and every time I rose again and again. Flashing like Rome mighty and eternal
Between the wolf and girl is a hummingbird encased in red feathers, it claws at itself, shredding its feathers into its nest. Crying out as though it is caught in a nightmare.