AVES

poetry CELINA ZHOU

i. LARK HUNT daybreak – the kingfisher sings me sisterhood kindly as he can bear; equinox carols break on the shore. there’s a voice in my head that says surrender your human heart and make a widow of our god — it falls silent when I weep, balks at the sight of salt in the water. I am winged and hollowed, I tell it, my rage a wretch on my tongue. the sun is not the sun but a star; laugh with me at the horror of it all, hand in pitiless hand. ii. DEAD DOVE the sky lies open and bleeding on a demon’s tongue: we break and we mend and we break by whim. there are no mothers left who can tell me what to do with all of this fury, how to storm a castle and burn it to the ground. the monsters are in your head and in the clouds, disarmed and eating worlds. come now, hero, dragon-tamer, queenkiller aren’t we all hopeless romantics? don’t these violent delights have violent ends? listen, listen – you broke me first, so stitch me back together before I break you too. iii. GLASS KITE some nights I dream of crimson and gold, dusky pearls scattered on the horizon, stained windows blotting out the sunlight – some nights I wonder how long it would take me to tear it all apart how far we could go, playing pretend, dancing under a howling sky. waltz with me, fall with me, white out the pain so I can’t remember to mourn all the things we left behind; in my sleep I unwind the moons and devour a distant dawn, the god of an ailing world.

I wake up to the harsh fluorescent lights flipping on, scorching my eyes. Rubbing them back into function, I groan and roll onto my stomach. Mind still foggy, I dramatically shove my pillow on top of my head. Trying to get one more blink of sleep, I press my eyes shut to the point of a migraine. In a suspiciously timed fashion, I hear the knocks of, most likely, grimey little children on the glass windows surrounding me. The constant banging creates a tune in my head, slowly drowning me in my own agony. I begrudgingly roll over and throw the flat pillow on the floor. The cheaply made bed squeaks with any movement made. A slam on the window makes me shoot up in bed. I frantically look around trying to see where that noise came from. I see a uniformed man glaring at me from the glass. He shakes his head in a disappointed manner and yells out of his stupid megaphone, “Wake up time was thirty minutes ago. I know you are newer around here, but you dirty little inmates need to abide by my rules. You know the consequences.”

Putting my head down, I slowly nod in agreement. The crowd surrounding the glass had slowly multiplied, getting drawn in by my shame. Some chuckle while others allow an ounce of sympathy to flicker across their face. But then it all returns to normalcy. Kids with their curious eyes peering into my life. Watching my every move. I pace around the room slowly. One foot in front of the other, staring at the floor. The couple dozen eyes on me burn holes in my skin.

One, two, three, four. Wall.

One, two, three, four. Wall.

Four steps. My entire life is secluded in a four step by four step box. Its full glass walls offer me no privacy. The outhouse-like bathroom is all I have. My safe space. The one place I can go and truly not be seen. I can still hear the chattering and laughing from the outside. The modern slang that I will never care to understand. The outlandish clothing the Futures wear. As a Former, wearing the intricate, flashy clothing they give me makes me uncomfortable. How I would love to wake up and change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. But I’m forced to put on a show. My whole life is a show.