Nectar
your throat is filled with water.
the pool, so turquoise it
sucked every color
into it’s depth until any
other hue was
a lie.
your wings — rocks,
the only gravity for
your bulbous body.
and then we simply, dive in.
the California sun leathery
on backs, slick babies–
overgrown men.
your wet feathered wings
slip past her, that darling girl,
with a shriek.
you’re only a flapping memory
of what a razor point weapon
can do.
until we all discovered we can pull
you apart with our fingertips.
In The Way 
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