Sparrows tumbled from my throat, which is to say
ELIZABETH UPSHUR
that I tasted feathers in my mouth,
retched up something dark for you,
that the death omens fell at my feet
one after another, three four five—
five birds worth a farthing,
and God was watching.
A red ant looks up and blesses Him,
lays a forage trail
around the manna of carcasses, the stiff
peach bird legs clawing at the sky,
nails still shiny with my saliva,
white feathers rustling with a horde
of fire jaws scything at the neck,
biting the swallowflesh
parsing it down
to the hollow bones,
a snarl of feathers
like uncombed hair,
and earth stained,
crying out, with
blood.
Elizabeth Upshur is an Afro-American poet raised in the South on Tsalaguwetiyi Land. She is a contributing editor at The Seventh Wave and the co-founder of The Southern Esesu Endeavor, a virtual third space for writers of the African Diaspora. She is currently working on a novel.