too much of our blood is pleading
alternate refuge for submerge
which is muscle unknit
a whole other person without prop
most of the body is empty
an unwilling lock
every doorway capable of closure
every bone capable of rupture
a person is a collocation of strikes
not of mercies
mercies reflected in broken glass
are by definition wingless
a missing wing reveals the anchor
two wings loosed from their bark
form a confessional
most of the body held together by breath
lifeline, from birth to indivisibility
once shattered, shattered
remade, a pox
what is there to trawl
reflection: a salvage
birds rush to unpiece collapse
buzzard, vulture
the dove, surprisingly
with urn-like wings
Copyright © 2019 by Rodney Gomez. This poem originally appeared in Waxwing, Issue 18. Used with the permission of the author.