the bird

Aye, miss. You sure know how to raise some color.

Your swaying hips with painted lips.
You splash some on and wait for the day when the color you wear will fill you in

and make you so
vibrant.

You dance so we can't see that all that you are is lines and tricks and

splinters from your mother leaving and your father slipping from the realm of reality.

You are lined but there are places where you don't connect so,
you can't be anything but

multiple
fragments

of a person.