Originally posted 1/26/2011.

You claim
it’s a safe neighborhood.
a good one, trumpet 
that there’s never been
a violent death nearby,
nothing at all in your safe space,
nothing at all seeping from
this ground

that is only yours because
at some point
it was taken by force
and force is what keeps it
yours, even if the blood
was and is spilled
by your proxies,
even if you didn’t know 
it was being spilled.

No matter —
you are you, 
you have no need to pay
any mind to that
so you can pretend to ignore
the black feathers
that have just now appeared
in your hair,
that everyone but you
can see.

When you are home alone,
please —
look in the mirror.

When you finally see them,
pick them out
and place them in a box.

Pull that box out, open it
and stare at those feathers
whenever you feel
a little too divine,
whenever you 
want to remember
how human you are,

then
go lock your doors
and feel a little threat
and a little guilt —

not too much,
no,
but enough.