Doomsday and Strawberry

My vocal cords could not

mouth the "L" and hush the "E"

even if the Earth restarted its cycle.

Four letters are enough to describe

the doomsday of tomorrows, the wishful

thinking of stomach-belched

violets-

so what, then, when

the boogeyman I fear

more than A's and F's

creeps down to my abdomen,

a cocoon living inside, waiting

to burst open and splash

the walls with strawberry colors,

the same shades as my face.

​

Bird Language

Before it all