Just One Place

You like things labeled; neat and organized, in lists you can count on. Rather than let birds fly around your head, you catch them and fill their light bodies with sand, mounting them to walls with cards that tell their latin names. Acrocephalus bistrigiceps means nothing to me, nothing like I love you, come here would, or even I’ve missed you.

You don’t know in which glass case to keep me so I try to tell you I don’t need one. I’ll stay without nails through my feet, my wings glued down. I’ll change my latin name to yours. I’ll be a part of your family.

Picture by C., words by S.