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Birds Are Prayers: I Never Told Him<\/strong><\/p>\n These attic windows are old and high, heart-stained to seduce the sun down. While I sleep, someone pull the bleeding thing through the morning forest where we kissed. Bury it there. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ariel Dawn<\/strong> lives in Victoria, British Columbia. Recent writing appears in Scraps<\/em> flash fiction anthology, Black & Blue, The Bohemyth, Ambit, Ginosko <\/em>and Paper Swans.<\/em> She is working on her first novel.<\/p>\n Birds Are Prayers: I Never Told Him<\/em>: first published in Bare Hands Poetry<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Birds Are Prayers: I Never Told Him These attic windows are old and high, heart-stained to seduce the sun down. While I sleep, someone pull the bleeding thing through the morning forest where we kissed. Bury it there. He’ll find it like dead birds he picks off the road. He\u2019ll arrange it […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8020","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8020","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8020"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8020\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8023,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8020\/revisions\/8023"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8020"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8020"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8020"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nHe’ll find it like dead birds he picks off the road. He\u2019ll arrange it in a box with random objects, melt beeswax around it. Call it Art.
\nHe won\u2019t notice the whole world died as he collects its bones, feathers, and races away inspired.<\/p>\n