Bird

Fists clench so tightly the knuckles turn to white

he stared and his eyes felt like an attack.

Jaw clenched tightly, back rigid, skin flushed red

he turned away from me.  He turned away.

"Get Out." Growled out between thin lips.  "Get Out."

Get out to where?  Where could I go?  I had

nothing, no money just the clothes I wore.

The slamming of his fist into the wall,

the shaking of the window, the echo

of the impact.  "Get Out."  I got out fast.

Alone I walked along the run down street

of my home.  Or it was my home.  Not now.

Where was I supposed to go now?  Birds chirped

It was still early, still morning and that

didn't feel right.  It should be dark, it should

be gloomy.  The sun shouldn't be shining.

Shoving hands into pockets and keeping

my head down, hoping no one would notice

me, or my tears.  I had nowhere to go. 

Dragging feet I moved toward nowhere slowly. 

The crows circled me as I walked, cawing

and waiting for me to just give up so

they could have their fill of me.  Scavengers

turned to patient hunters.  Did I reek of

death?  My soul felt dead, but my body moved on. 

I stared with bitterness at my new flock.

They bobbed and weaved among the phone wires, moved

from fence post to fence post, with little care as

I slowly made my way away from there

They would have to wait, I was not dead yet.