there is no beauty here.
broken-necked birds
heads hanging on
snapped spines
ruptured lungs suck
shallow breaths
twisted napes above
stiffly shut wings
so we draw them in air
on clear skies toward a full sun
slack necks soaring
wind burying beak into breast
blind but still winged
we are so proud
to see them in flight
suffocating with wings outstretched
