Cold and formless I felt

the darkness hovering over the water

My new body made of sparrows,

Their feathers rejected, their song resonates,

greasy fingers finding lips,

I laugh with my mouth open

beating fists on my chest, telling

me to clench the current under my wings

I invented a way to talk to our ancestors,

tell them we screwed up

I listened to news anchors

give an unbiased opinion

dreamscape home where you won’t

stop shouting and I can’t speak

we took a break from fighting and

noticed the reflection trees make

starling songs start abruptly

then grow quiet as mist

I haven’t yet combed the knots

out with my dirty fingers

sew stitches in rows and watch them grow

their produce is something we’ll never smell

there’s nothing more we can do

except wait for the sirens to start.

Contact Shelby Driver at [email protected]. Visit the Luna Negra website.