WEREBIRD

Werebird* c. 2020 by Saintorr

*part man, part avian

 

Don’t call me by any human names

I’m a werebird; half man, half sparrow,

starling, dove, crow, haunted raven.

Feeding on the bliss of men

Dancing to their songs

Crying to the moon

for loves long gone

and the absence of human touch. 

 

Don’t call me 

by any human names,

I’m king of the sky

half man, half yellow-tailed hawk

Surveying my kingdom

from air currents on high

Master of space,

destroyer of fear, hesitation,

procrastination and stasis

For the air up here

Feels like sea foam.

Always rushing, floating, 

soothing, stroking,

like a hand-of-wind massage

on my body, my temple

Come play with me.

 

I’m the werebird

half man, half dolphin

half white ape, half witch.

Come talk to me

We’ll read tarot cards, 

tea leaves, yarrow stocks,

throw the iChing, 

for these are the quiet moments

to treasure, words piping in harmony

like lover’s calls and bird songs.

 

For I alone

can love you

I’ll weave s spell

To transform us from vultures

to eagles, canaries,

petulant parrots

older than a thousand years

Careful! I can bite through my cage

and snap off your finger tip

like a stale crust of bread.

Life has done this to me

clipped my wings,

crushed my beak,

locked me in a warehouse

with other slave birds

FREE ME.

Of these rusted shackles

stroke me, entice me.

 

I’m a werebird,

part man, part angel

part bobby-soxer,

part arresting officer,

with velvet handcuffs,

woven of feathers and fluff,

Part fat, drunken, drag queen 

on a tiny stage, mouthing bitchy obscenities

to a deliriously restless, raucous

crowd of queens.

At night I peck at and follow

the trail of birdseed leading home

to my tiny wren house.

 

I am a werebird

you cannot love me

as good as the trees and sky do,

As good as brother moon, father sun,

I’m always soaring

far flung from the confined clowns,

in their chicken coop crumbs, and 

failed ruins of dreams.

 

I’m a werebird,

a ghost, a woman-man thing

walking the streets,

coasting on wind-sheers.

Don’t call me by human names, 

feed me your bliss, let me dance

to your sound of tears,

drumming of dawns,

I wear my wild gown with pride,

the corset and straight jacket

are too tight, my master has 

shredded them off me and tamed me,

whispering his love

as I hold him

in my muscle-feathered arms

whispering his name. 

 

Werebird, werebird come to me

Werebird, werebird, set me free

Ocean limbs and seeking skies

Stare through these

unblinking eyes.