collector’s bird

you plucked
out
too many
of my
cyan-tinted
f e a t h e r s

while 
modelling
me into a
stuffed 
poetic
b i r d

wings
got too
heavy with
your lyrically
infused
f e a r s

so i couldn’t 
fly away
from your
collector’s
palace—
y e t

until tonight—
when i 
slide out
of this darkened 
room of
n i g h t m a r e s

leaving you behind,
sleeping,
in your
tortuous,
silent,

o d d
   r  h  y  m  e  d 
 b        e        d