animals of language
She felt a flock rising beneath her.rooks.frantic shapes untethering from scarified land.oil feathered.dragging body and form into the shape of sky.It rose and hurt.this thrashing and lifting in the gesture of flight.brittle bone beakedthese rooks of dark eyes and molting spirit.they gather and circlecalling, clicking, incanting,Picking sinew and muscle and matter and bonefrom which to weave a winter nest in the bare branches of her mind.