persimmon

Hold me, he would say. I held, but couldn’t see. But he saw me nonetheless. So out I reached to him. Smaller, smaller he was getting. Staining my arm, extended, I felt a breeze tickling the finger tip, a drop of honey. Please, I said, show yourself. Emerging from a darkness, out flew a bird with its wing clipped, so, without flying afar it fell, at my feet. I asked and it answered by killing my love. Help, I cried. Nobody answered until, said a voice inside me, leap! Leap from the train, riding. Down I looked, a void, a darkness. Scared I was, but the bird, fluttering its clipped wing, bleeding from its wound, rested its head on the tip, at my foot.