my forearm slims into an ulna bone and fingers form phalanges

rufflings of black and white feathers

eye sockets bore into my skull somewhere nearby trees look crisp

hop        and my big toe rotates backward

nails digging into the bark

my throat stretches longer and when I breath

I breath more air        my tongue suddenly forms bones

with the tip of my bill I tap a bit of birch

the trunk the texture of porous

metal liquid pewter in deep cords        tree gripping me-

open my wings moonward     follow the decay of night.