I should have been at work an hour ago, but at the park across the street, I found a fledgling crow dead on the ground. I’ve put the dear in my freezer for now. I can’t think what else to do with it. Any suggestions of interesting things to do with a fledgling crow? The feathers in the wings haven’t fully grown out, but it’s the size almost of an adult.
Day: July 7, 2004
I release you
I was cruel tonight. It tasted delicious. Of nails down skin and thighs.
Wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for the storm.
A dark beach. Light coloured sand and ocean crash. Wind and water and fury. Now you fall on your knees for her. Gritty on the damp bare feet. There is a moon and it is cold. Cold like chill, cold like the moment you hear unexpected sound. She still has her shirt off. Teeth. That shiver is for the thunder. Wind whipping hair and skirt. Powerful, wicked. Flesh. Gasp now, before she hears you arching your back. Night laughter and skin. She’ll scream if you let her. Deafen the sky. Exquisite and lightning. Remember there was a line drawn once, sly and poison. Bisected by blackness across the chest. I’ll glow in the dark and laugh at you watching me. This is mine.