Thrum

I hear the thrum
Of hummingbird wings
Ominous behind me
I want to turn
To meet her
And make petals
Of my salty flesh
To drain my veins
And feed her with
Any sweetness
I have left

-Me

Painting by Maria Clapwood

~ by April on February 13, 2025.

Posted in Body, Death, Humanity, Identity, Nature, Poetry
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