There is a bird

Caught in the lip

Of the hood

And the headlight,

Dangling.

It’s feathers are

Ruffled and crooked.

It’s neck long

And strained.

You can see clear

Down to the muscle.

We stand, staring,

On either side.

You don’t say

You’re sorry

For yelling and

I don’t say

I wish you weren’t

So hard on me.

I shrug my shoulders

And you reach out

Your hand and

Rip body from head,

A clean pull.

You look at what

You’ve done and

Drop it.

We both turn to

Go.