What doesn't kill us makes us stranger. Cracked hatched and eyelashless. We
need aviation here. I am fearful of heights. [double space]
He reaches across many streets, arm outstretched , to where I sleep. I am
carinate now. There are 3 fresh eggs in my nest. I didn't feel a thing. [double space]
Clippings scatter; they spot the down cover. Wings flutter
with fanfare but I am no angel.
We aren't meant to be caged. Our path has been laid. [double space]
He breaks my ovaries with skill. Warms the skillet
to scramble my yolks. Mitosis with one hooked bite.
I consume my future. My beak is pure. [double space]
It didn't make it.
The fledgling fetus.
Fresh from the shell.
Carrion for vultures. [double space]
And I knew how it felt.
And my swollen heart broke.
And I saw myself.
And I knew what I was.
And I buried it in the hole
the vultures left in my throat [double space]
when they ate my song.
--Suzanne Grazyna is a stage actress and poet from California. Though she may actually be a robot.