Rules Poem by tej Singh

not for long. so sad.
I hate these branches breaking
beneath the weight I carry, burdening.

plucking feathers faster than tune sputters
to damp groundfrom splendid beak. freeze
in air. follows in pursuit of hope and freedom.
I've known neither since.

as world turns, world ages.
earth feels its death in the ground.
that's where I will be, forgotten bones dragging
itself across craggy surface. wings beat so out
of tune, I've made up the rest.

and when sun spills, it trembles.
weak-roughened, what was once strength now
resembles hope of some other kind.

I've thought about death. it sinks so friendly,
almost like a ghost, into humble bones, inviting
what was once freedom to the dinner table.

told this story hundreds of times.
daring, bold, thrashing hero. broad across
time zones, sky remarks at the differences
in my appearance each time.

though the words are never the same again, there
will be silhouettes weeping lonely without me
outside their window pane, the glass separating
worlds like biology did to evolution. preening,
they will always need me, full-breasted
and saccharine, crimson as lifeblood
of resembling lineages.

tomorrow will not be the same. it cannot be.
I've held myself up this high for so long
not to just come tumbling down with
strong gale-force wings. hurricanes or not,

I find my own quivering branch to sing sweetly from.