Bye-bye Birdie

(In rigidity, in a machine so all-encompassing
That home is a state of being;
The fans whir, a cool temperamentality settles down
Upon our slick, well-oiled hairline fractures—
A quiet vibration is the harmony of our life; 
More so than our heartbeats, and more so than our footsteps and—

And the dust that settles within our crevices,
A testament to our history,
It turns into nothing more than a loud irritant.

Yet to the bird, 
Its feathers congealed by human enterprise,
Dust is the filament of its wires,
Sat upon and molded,
Claimed— through physical occupation,
And left— in flight, that natural mechanical marvel.

Order, they demand from us,
Pairing up our days in constant movement—
A weak imitation of a poem,
No rhyme, no reason,
Days in perfect couplets,
Yet no partner for the seventh.

That day, that aberration,
I now use it to tell the tale of one who bears
A loss more profound than that of capital.)

the sky sings my hymns, each note in dissonance—
discord once heard; my moniker a refrain, 
i reach my hand out to answer, like a trance; 

once more, i remain fettered by my feathers;
the clock that seldom ticked – the shoe that ne'er fit 
when shall these curbed wings of mine guide me hither?

these stars remain vast as the light they emit. 
to chase our dreams that we've declared — (they have fled) 
if we could soar once more, i shan't let us split 

for you, who traverses the stars — what lies ahead?
have you chased (y)our dreams; bid them love, or good-bye? 
thrashing legs, racing to leave the warmth of bed.

we wrote our scars on that same auroral sky, 
perhaps we have always been one, you and i. 

(My chest is a room that houses an empty cage;
Open, hollow,
A monument to a formerly matching rhythm—
Footsteps and heartbeats and—

And my ribs form the bars;
There was a heart they kept safely captive once.

I prefer the cage covered.

Swaddled in clothes and jewellery and emblems of duty.

A stillborn baby I nurture— a doll I sing to at night. 

Do you really still love me?
Re -evaluate the distance between us, please,
Millions of galaxies spark light behind your eyelashes—
Farther than I have the strength to reach out;
Solace calls my name, and repeats it enough to convince me it is you,
Late at night, when I look at what to leave due,
Tiny fingerprints, I see, masquerading as childish birds—
Door slammed on a future signed away by smudged identity.

Love makes demands of us as well—
That we must choose,
Must split in the face of tradition,
And turn our narrative to a dichotomy.

Of course, for now, their eyes are turned away;
We'll play pretend for another day,
And i'll let you tell me the words our story should say.)

Before you go, you must say farewell, mister,
Your tie aligned on the center line, words sibilant as the temptation of
The one who always disappoints his sister.

Thorns obscure your path— ah, you just missed her!
Still, thorns must cling to roses, after all, you chase the call of love;
Before you go, you must say farewell, mister.

Bleeding palms; join them, say your psalms, see if they blister;
Felix culpa; let your closed eyes guide you towards redemption, your wings will lift you above
The one who always disappoints his sister. 

Fate’s words plot eulogies; silver tongue, Au/Ra twister,
In the rafters comes their echo, perching like a dove, 
“Before you go, you must say farewell, mister.”

A man once bound, by his own words, look at his eyes now glister,
The sun peers at the wax upholding his wings, or lack thereof;
The one who always disappoints his sister.

In flesh that yearns for mortal spirit, there lies the divine urge to assist her
In carrying out the funeral for the life you plan to leave behind- her quiet plea your final shove;
Before you go, you must say farewell, mister,
The one who always disappoints his sister.

(If you haven't left yet, 
Then I suppose I must first,
You know you can't sit here forever—
There is a world outside our paradise,
Words beyond my stories,
And days that follow some order.

Fly forward, flap your feathers;
Felicity fashions a forgettable fate—
For failure to fall further away from familiarity,
And family friends to find fortune in florid fallacies.

In truth, it takes heart to live reminiscing.)

Poetry by - Patricia Nicole and Ayanna Kohli

Art by - Ayanna Kohli