Baby Bird Bones (A Poem)

 

                     By Jack Cariad Leon

I cry hopelessly to the angels,

as I look for hidden messages everywhere.

Always seeking some hint or

holy sign I should still love you, still care.

 

I want to enter your room, on silky white wings:

I wish that I could truthfully say

that I’ve always been good, oh so good to you.

But I haven’t. I’ve only been ok.

 

I’m a passionate Pagan mess in my Sunday best,

Please, I would beg of the earth itself,

with moss in her hair and her rainforest lungs:

Is there any way that you could help?

Her the wishful goddess, him the wistful godless.

 

But I don’t think it’s too likely so I try to be strong

missing you quite deeply, in fact I’ve

ached for you each and every night, all night long,

my heart as brittle as baby bird bones.

 

Personified feminist disappointment,

I feel like I need myself a man.

I’d try the noble pursuit of being alone,

but, I crave those olive hands.

About the author:

Jack Cariad Leon (he/him) is a transgender writer and visual artist based in Brisbane, Australia. A fan of the avant-garde, he collects dolls and art books of certain genres. He also has a deep interest in the history and lore of flowers. His social media accounts are as follows: jackofallartforms on tumblr, instagram, deviantart. jackofartforms on twitter