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)


BluePrintReview - issue 17 - Bodyscapes