If we pluck our worries out like pin feathers barbed to chicken skin, one-by-one, free ruffles from bones, will we know each other underneath wings where every fear fanned, plumed in russet and cream, crowded with nits and fleas? From stripped neck to tiny clots of declawed fists, we’re whole birds undressed. Still, we divide— you, barbecue smoke; me, smoothed… Read more →