the lamb and owl

the owl lives behind the ski check

my hair, entangled in his claws

he pulls me from my room

out my window

into the darkness

 

the wind here

it’s strong enough to lift me away

to drag me under

 

golden brown strands

he calls me to his nest

we become contortionists

bending and folding to his will

 

how pure it feels, flying

you wont even notice the cold air

you wont even notice his beak

digging into you as you sleep

enveloped in the branches

 

I awake in my bed again

grass stains knees green

blood stains memories red

forget my darling, forget