She roosts,
and I dance.

Reg told me he saw a horse.
I told Reg
sometimes I crash into toilets
and puke seeds.
We each told the other
we fill our peepholes for hours
when our pupils fly.

I saw an owl
on your head.
Talons shaved, feathers plucked,
he is a sad bird.
If you feed him a mouse,
he'll have strength
to peck our noses.

Reg is an owl.
The angels stole my feathers
before I was born.

And she's a kind bird.
Her feathers grow back, blue and black,
perched on my shoulder. 

She survives my
pigeon dance.