Selective Reduction by Destiny Birdsong

Is it fair to long to save oneself?
To feel as I feel hearing
A single loon making its call
at twilight:

where are you?

The imprint of it:
A beak, the fluttering artifact
Of my lungs,

You were miniscule.
But your wingspan — terrifying.

Then bird after bird
Chorus rising
In my ribcage:
What you witness here is holy
Leave this place

And in the ensuing hush:
wilderness.

I would not sacrifice
Everything for you.
There it is.

After the silence, a lone bird repeats:
I am here. Where are you?

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