By Kate Simblet
I once flashed a brilliance through canopies of trees. A dazzle of colour, fluttering free. Quills handsome, preened – now drab, shabby-faded. Beauty as fragile as youth.
You trapped me, caged me, a century ago. Life behind bars until finally the slit – I was gutted. You dug out my eyes, tweezered my brain, bound wings with metal, stilled me forever. It takes more than your wire to mend this broken heart.
I perch amongst artefacts, watch with glass eyes, you’ve feathered your nest from Victorian crimes – ivory, the plume trade, taxidermy.
How do you sleep?
Pretty Polly’s appalled.
Do I have to repeat?
Kate Simblet (she/ hers) social works by day and plays with words by night. Lives in Brighton loves the sea.
Words here and there including Free Flash Fiction, @nffd The Write-in, @paragrahplanet, @pigeonreview, Reflex Fiction Winter longlist.