Goose

Clip my wings
With a scissor blade,
So I can’t fly away;

Shoot me down –
Let me be a goose
Tumbling down from the sky;

When I land,
Let the worms burrow
Into my belly;

Stack up wood,
Drown it in oil –
Lay me on top;

Steal the heaviness
Of muscle and bone
Dragging me down;

Scatter my ashes
Where wild deer feed,
So I can guide them.

About Shae Lynn

I'm a writer interested in symbolism, dreams, embodiment, and poetic language.