The Ineffable Machinations of the Universe

By Megan Tucker 

Vermilion feathers wake me

from wandering silence.

Pointed proboscis of a mouth:

My body insists on becom

-ing earth again. Ephemeral,

the gossamer strands of its heart

beat broken like teeth

shearing through string,

leaving me to sepulcher

the body

using my foot as a procession

for this scintilla of a bird

on the ground.