athena

I will build a bridge 
when it is dark 
and you cannot see 

the mark of your survival 

to remind you- take 
the birds broken 
at your feet where 
they rest and sing 
to them, humming 

in small beaks a song 
if you think 
they no longer 
can hear. 

Remember the trophies 
we shattered in the dumpster 
that night they came in the 
mail? – my sadness, 

I will hold a fist 
to you and pound 
until the dirt lifts. 

On the night they died and 
took truths from which 
you were sculpted- I 

scaffold the mind in memory 
balance upon broken strands 
of silk like a spider, and 

find the center/ 

let us read a tale 
I saw between the stars 
scripting us- it was 

just as true 
as this tragedy 

and build a bridge 
of broken trophies and 
birds’ wings between 

one story and the next.