I am wearing heavy feathers
with the gaze of the day lit to my backside.
A rotisserie routine,
hot with punishment and prayer.
Prayer for punishment,
punishment for prayer.
Answers from a sky beaded in blue birds,
upon gods’ supposed pretty blue fabric.
Crowned crows and drowned geese
barking their bird songs—
like god’s dog, a dog’s god.
Feedback fed back to my waterproof back.
Backed by...
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