these wax wings
were never crafted
with the intent
of escaping this
prison of ivory

i just hope to fly
high enough
to tell the universe
to go fuck itself
from a vantage where
it cannot ignore me

i am a poppyseed
in beauty’s lopsided smile
a popcorn husk buried
in the perfect veneer
drawing blood with each
new frown of disdain

a trail of sparrow
feathers drifting down
from the emptiness
where divinity died
in a fit of petulant boredom