You’ve found me out.
Inside my closet
on the top shelf
pushed behind
the scarves and old
prescriptions and
forgotten purses
is a plastic grocery bag
filled with orange feathers
that I have worn once—
it is not that I have said
Never again,
it is only that I
have some dream
of a day not at all
like today when
it feels so totally
right to perch
at the edge of my door
all feathered and
bright, not caring
if I lose a few feathers,
not concerned
at all if mid-song I fly
or fall.