Thursday, July 21, 2011

What She Said

I have feathers growing over my skull, like a Mohawk parrot: and a line of wispy foliage runs on down my spine. Ridges of featherwork lead from pinky-base to elbow, from elbow to shoulder: rusty red feathers that tickle in the breeze. On the tops of my ears are delicate tufts. I hear better than I did.

I suppose I am turning into a bird: I have stronger than ever a yen to climb lightly onto housetops and to perch on wires. My bones are hollowing, turning to wishbones and tuning forks. Open spaces, where the wind might big me up and tumble me, are dangerous and alluring. The high silver static in my ears modulates to the distant scream of hawks.

I can feel my eyes grow brighter and sharper. When someone says something muddled I find myself turning my head to the side, so as to fix them with a one-eyed, brilliant, predator's stare.

Not long now, says the goddess. Oh, not long now, my darling.


Shanna Germain said...

Lovely! Great thing to wake up to this morning!

best, s.

PS -- not a cosmic joke. Just a change in the link that accidentally screwed everything up. Should be:


Jayne said...

Yes, I like very much what she said. I wonder if she'd let me join her in that open space...


christopher said...

Goddess Love

The Goddess loves you
like no other can, darling,
like the moon the night
and the sun the day
and you your own breath, darling,
like the cat the mouse,
like that too.

deb said...


Anne said...

Words that fly!

Natalie d'Arbeloff said...

Becoming avian! Instead of turning into a werewolf under a full moon, becoming a bird at noon. How wonderful. I will it to happen to me, when the time comes.

marly youmans said...

I see old men with tufts of feathers poking out of their ears. Now I know.