#nosignofwings

“What’s wrong little red?”/ You breathe deep. Think hard about  not dying in the woods somewhere./You talk fast, sweat beading at your back, tongue and teeth pressed to throat. /“I don’t know.” You swallow. “Everything.”    “Head or heart: which is prone to collapse?”/ You piece together a smile. Think about writing an essay on how you are head and he is heart and you have both been breaking./ He is brother, blood to your body./ You fidget as the question sits: you want to ask her about saving.  She asks you what is feral?/ "Wildness that you could have been killed by.“/ You say, deciding to hesitate. You would have liked to be ghost so as to have been less of body/ but not as much than you would have liked her to have been/ you wanted a more tangible haunting/ something more than your father breaking.  "What do you dream?”/  hospital visits/girls with no eyes / a bathtub of hair/ eating well beyond full/your body breaking/ a wolf howling as you run/ you trust him and he kills you/ old memories;;/ you reach out too late and he burns/ before finally, you wake in arms knotted for safe-keeping./Your tongue sticks. “I don’t.” Finally you answer, bleeding, soft.