i remember the first time i saw your heart break

how you held the tiny bird in your demure hands

all feather and splinters and shattered dreams

and the look in your eyes that asked me why we

had spent all night prizing recalcitrant snails out

of their sealed isolation and poking the terrified

remains into its eager beak while it was wrapped

in a towel of purest white and how i hoped you

had not noticed the claret stain melting through

the bottom while your mother and i tried to tell

you it might not make it past this night but now

you had named it ‘beauty’ and it was your best

friend and when you grew up you would go to the

moon with this sad little bird and you would never

be alone again because this cold night in december

your true gift had arrived starving and freezing and

bleeding out on the drive and now we are bringing

it inside and placing it in the cardboard box that the

real christmas present had come in and now we are

keeping it warm by the radiator in the toilet and now

we are digging a hole in the garden and that little bird

that we all loved is gone and i feel like i am burying a

tiny bit of your childhood next to its beautiful tragedy.