Groomed by a Bird
She has cockatoo feathers, a white pillowed
chest, a prickly beak. And I open up my mouth
to her again and again hoping for kisses with her
grey tongue. I get flapped in the face as she
rubs me down like a horse. She combs my body
looking for biddy bids beneath my haunches.
Someone told her, her name means she will
never draw a man; her lottery rests in between
my legs; with my hot heart; with my stone-full
head. And so she breaks me down into pieces:
easier to digest. She pecks at me like seed.
Cracking. Pinching. Dropping me to the floor of
her cage. Forgetting me. Calling out madly.
Hello. Hello. Hello.
words: Emma Barnes, NewZealand/Japan (Elbows on the Table)
image: Ella & Sebastian, Germany ((de)focused geeks)