The Bird and The Epiphany

I saw a bird sit on a pipe one evening
all alone
and watch the sun set
like a bursting and bleeding ulcer
that pulses
then was drained of its blood
and like a child put to rest
after he weeps,
for the tears like warm milk,
always put them to sleep,
I drew myself a bath
watched the bird from the window,
stay even after the show
after the sun had set and the credits had rolled,
and then, and only then
did I slide under the surface
like a callus you had grown used to,
and believed in God.

-anna sluder

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