Untrust (Me)

Nikolina Lazetic

like Mother, be Assassin I was told
to love a man the way I'd love a house
about to burn, a home that would not hold
up well against the words left unsaid, those
flammable syllables and for a while
I thought about an unlamented red
winged man whose words were incense burning small
too fast but leaving still a smell, a thread
I picked up, understanding this angel:
chryselephantine but blushing in shame
because of wings stuck at a wrong angle,
fluttering senseless and not taking blame,
not taking flight. these wings and all their Red:
dead weight.