The Death of the Hummingbird

Suddenly the sky (Yes, always yes, since you
were bold enough to ask) is too fast.
The ground too, the twigs and grasses
that reached like children yesterday today
are mad and waving.

You do not close your eyes,
but fall and feel the slowing
of a blurred heart,
and the busy little priests of your parasites
all chant the same last rites.

Uria by Audrey Kawasaki
Hummingbird body from Cassandra Barney


Scott said...


i might suggest considering some rewording around "priests of your parasites" but i have no tangible suggestions.

anyway, you did write this, yes?!

it's fucking fantastic.

Kate Horowitz said...

I did write this. Yes.

Thank you.

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