no one ever asks

no one ever asks
why their beaks and feet are red
either they don’t notice
or they already know to keep quiet

during the day they are white
ghostly pale and innocent birds
it is their disguise

at midnight
when their master sings
the ritual words
they become savage
light absorbing
invisible
and they gleefully feed
on red blooded flesh

in the morning
when they stumble toward
the nearest river
or bird bath
they wash off their kill
and the plumage grows in
tickling their skin

the only part that doesn’t
ever wash away
is the red…

handful of birds stand in share of tree

image titles “The Gang” by Trish+Brian on wordpress

About Kary

I write many things, prose, poems, prose, flash fiction, and novels. I've always loved the free form poem, and practice it most often. Feedback welcome. View all posts by Kary

6 responses to “no one ever asks

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