chicken bones

my shadow is a shadow of what once was shade
that can now mouth that i am the best best
 
when she mistakes streetlights for stars
and i tell her love’s the first electricity anyways
 
but it’s dark now
though my shadow is still depressed
 
in the furniture that has grown with my hair
that is molting away from me too
 
becoming a bird like all the birds
evolving to dumps and wreckage
 
perched on those streetlights
looking at the two of us hungrily
 
hoping for the worst worst
though i tweet that it has already happened
 
she doesn’t hear with the birds furred then feathered
nattering against the dying pissing sun