A course in wing removal.

  I have given two rings
as gifts, both were given back,
and I only wear the one, since
we would have had lovely
children, her belly was soft
for it. It is on a chain around 
my neck. A one winged bird
found dead below its nest
below its mother
beneath its mother
either born that way, or, 
self disfigured, frustrated,
trying too young to fly
then, after, realizing, leapt
from its nest to retrieve
at least its fear of 
falling. Fingers run
along the contours of 
a topographical globe,
scaling mountains
the world moving beneath
these fingers skimming 
your stomach, wanting to be 
buried in your most desirable
landscapes. If and when
you do proceed with this course
in wing removal, refrain
from thinking about me. Pretend
you bought the kit at Ames,
your intention to give it as a present
like so many cameras, espresso makers, 
dustbusters, you never got around
to giving. Put it to use. I will pray
until then, to remain yours,
flightless.

-mcb

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