See the teeth, the jowls, the eyes —

they snatched the pheasant from the field

and broke his neck in several places.

As tendon and skin shattered clean

life within left, left to fly out again.

Leave the feathers, the beak, the feet —

they were a corpse-shell for his soul.

If he lifted from those bones

as bright sparks of light

then that husk is empty.

Independent content creator, ghostwriter, author https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv mental health advocate, and poet. bridgetwebbber@outlook.com

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