TW: Suicidal Ideation
I have a small bird in my pocket
and I keep him because there is no room for more
in my heart
the others flight and flutter wings against at my lungs
which stops me breathing sometimes
And it hurts;
carrying them in my chest behind the ribs holding them in
But that’s what pain does, they say, and fly up into my head.
I have a small bird in my pocket
and he tries to persuade me with stories in my bed
whispering about graves,
good women
and gun powder
and I try to be stronger than him,
but it’s dark in there between us
most nights
I have a small bird in my pocket
and I wonder if the others have heard him
are there are more of them than me
So I say,
be quiet in there with your song
and he does,
but only for a little while
So I take him out of my pocket
because he’s too big for those seams and too loud in my dreams
when he plans my grave with gunpowder.
I feel him peck away at me so hard my hand begins to bleed
and when I look into my palm a revolver weights down
just below my sleeves
That bird, Ill swallow him whole
and whisper his song
where an empty pocket bleeds
Amy-Jean Muller is an artist, writer and poet from South Africa who lives and works in London. Both her art and writing explore culture, memory, mental health, identity, and sexuality. She has exhibited her art in South Africa and London. Her writing can be found in various publications and is a regular contributor for Versification and The Daily Drunk. She also writes transgressive fiction and is currently completing her first novel.
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