Open cracked lips to whisper lies into
a mirror about what a good girl you are, dear.
Utter 'whoops' every time you melt and
once again crave cold cherries on your neck.

Pick a plant too often to find if anyone will see,
giggling at the weeds meanwhile.
Dancing naked in summer showers and moaning
softly when she thinks of him and furred flesh.

She found sweet fruit on her legs
and harvested it slowly while waiting
sitting and always and forever
craving the softest, gentle caress of fur and feather.

Throw chilled hands into the mirror now
dare your reflection to speak a soft utterance
of retreat when you touch her chilled feathers
and catch his warm quivering fur between your teeth.

- Tarinn Lee Something.
To my Birds and Kit child


Penned by my hand on the 15th of Khepary, in the year 213 MA.