Slice Your Wrist On A Feather

it transpires with a honk
that shatters terra’s atmosphere
a mute swan sundering through gravity’s larynx
like a winged bullet sagged in cream & bone

no one expected swans to absquatulate the tellus
not like this; not with molten plumes
& avenues of menstrual milk oozing from their tails
they ascend in soundlessness; they land vocalizing morse

the luna is not a rock
it’s a womb, aching & pearlescent
caked with ancient eggs that never hatched
in serene eden; each crater: a nest

each nest: a grave; their beaks pen equations
on lunar dust trauma calculus, grief geometry
one enunciates i reminisce the first extinction
one utters your nukes morph us into fertility

& beneath the sea of tranquility, swans fuck in cascade
tongues of flame lapping the silhouettes
plunging into the slit of selenic lust
& virgin gasps of astronauts who eyed them but couldn’t scream

you think that feathers are soft?
venture slicing your wrist on a swan’s amore letter
venture gulping swan’s orgasm from a caldera
venture telling her you forsook her once

when she tattooed your childhood into her flightpath
they don’t loop back for winters anymore
they don’t bounce back for winds, or warmth or wetlands
they don’t come home for mercy, for memory, or for mourning

they resurge for revenge
revenge for what was seized
for what was shunned, for what was promised
they backtrack not to heal but to haunt

they haunt to double back & double back to haunt
their necks curve into sickles
their ojos are twin moons you’ll never lounge on
their melody? a hex, a lullaby, a contract

she laid an ovum on your pecs last midnight
it pulsed & you muse it was a reverie
but this dawn your heartbeat flutters & you witness her
on the plaster ceiling — engineering a nest from your hair & broken vows

beckon into the migration; slumber light
love heavy; the firmament is about to molt