In the Back, Under the Trees

massaged me with raven wings
clipped from an old bird
dangling off a fishing net
broken and hanging in the yard

scaled wings sun molted
caked oil on bleached feathers

when you came to pick me up
you thought I'd be waiting at the door

not out back
under those big trees
with death hanging between them

when the sun hits the wings just right
a rainbow shoots into the window
and magnifies itself

surrounded by the prismatic light
consuming me

I forgot you were coming