Cassowary
When I first loved you, shy flightless bird, our mouths
barely touched. You left your red-blue scarf
on the nape of my headboard, a slack talisman.
A reason for your return. I could not bear
to let you go. You kicked your yellow leather boots
to the floor, said nothing for hours, suckling plums,
your soft sounds breaking the ripe silence.
I could not tell you then, bright ratite, could not love
enough. So you tore your dagger claw into my heart,
poured your weight onto me until my breath fell short.
You slunk back, jet-black goddess, into your Northern
forest, before anyone could see the damage you’d done.
Born in California, Aiko Greig lives in Scotland where she completed an MSc in Creative Writing at the University of Edinburgh. Aiko won a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award in 2015. Her poetry is published in The Edinburgh Review, Gutter, and Fuselit, among others. Blog: www.lionandsloth.com Twitter: @aikowrites