the fiction of pelican poetry.

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part one: an introduction.

i lie there sound asleep,

knowing everything in front

of me is the actualization of

a man’s destiny mixed with

whatever prophecy you have

planned for me.

she lied when she handed

me that pillow case and said

that the soft fabrics will go

well with the feathers

of a now flightless bird

that rests beneath my

soft head.

the pillow case is less of

an armor for the pillow, and

more of a sheer physique to

disguise the now flightless bird with

what some call self-respect.

like this case can take the

bird and shield it from what

it actually is.

a free spirit torn apart

to craft my desires, added

with a hint of cover-up

to mask what’s behind.

because if she told me all along

that this bird’s life wasn’t enough,

i would have never given her

the chance to put on that pillow case.

“but it has stains on it,” she said.

but those stains are made from a

time where I needed that pillow

the most.

“you can always take the

pillow case off,” she said.

but why mask reality with a

so called destiny placed upon

by some prophecy that you

had for me?

you see, that now flightless –

bird meant something to me,

and as her feathers lie beneath

my resting head, I will try

and forget all that I ever did

for you.

---

part two: a mother.

she loved her kids. so

much more now that she

has nothing to give.

she spent weeks

searching for something for them to eat.

something.

anything.

between the lights of the

pier and the darkness

of the buoy, we find

her children crying for

food.

and she didn’t know what to do.

she didn’t know what to do.

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part three: a pier.

She flies toward the

scene that seems unseen

due to the lights that

blinds the view of the

blinded ocean.

the pier seems to be

a mere reflection of the

happiness she used to have,

before the cries of responsibility

came to take place.

she used to be happy,

back when there was nothing

but grey skies and the sound of the waves crashing

simultaneously to the trap –

beats that seduced her beak

into the britches of another

pelican.

those cries of pleasure

are now cries of pain

as she searches for something

that her babies can eat.

that his babies can eat.

his babies are starving.

and as she flies over the

pier, she finds nothing.

not even a glimpse of him.

---

part four: a pelican.

she starts to fly towards the buoy,

as pelican tears streams reflections

of the pelican kisses she had

learned to trust.

she was hopeful flying in this direction,

as if the darkness of the buoy

could turn her memories dark

enough so she couldn’t see

all of the pain he had created.

the bright lights refract the

broken bridges that he set

ablaze, and now his babies

are crying on the other side,

as the fire engulfs the bridges,

and he flies away.

she prefers the darkness. an

aftermath of fire leads to burns,

and burns lead to healing, but healing

isn’t as bright as the fire.

no.

healing is a dark world full

of emotional hurt caused by the

physical pain.

“but that’s okay,” she thinks.

“that’s okay.”

---

part five: a buoy.

she finds comfort in the darkness.

the buoy bobs alone

like the life she wished she

could have.

her dreams consist

of a reality that broken bridges

and crying babies didn’t exist.

a dream where the prophecy

that lies within her eyes were

visions of bright lights and blue –

skies beneath the heaven of

a prophecy she wished she had.

but her reality was not that.

in fact, her reality was worse

than the buoy she now rested

her feathers on.

as pelicans tears streams reflection

of the pelican kisses she had

learned to trust.

and worst of all, as she

searches the water, she

still finds nothing.

not even a glimpse of him.

---

part six: a past.

she sits on the buoy, alone

and below she sees a younger

version of herself. the freedom

of responsibility mixed with the

safety of both parents being there

for her.

she sits on the buoy, alone,

and below she sees a young

version of herself. the captivity

of her being mixed with the torn

apart feelings, as her father

is taken away to apply feathers

to pillows.

she sits on the buoy, alone,

and below she sees herself.

the slave oppressed to the

fear of her childhood mixed

with the pride that lied

beneath a man that allowed

his soul to be consumed with

lust.

she sits on the buoy, alone,

and she’s reminded of her hungry

kids. with no food within her

empty beak, she flies home.

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part seven: a sacrifice.

she loved her kids. so much

more now that she has nothing

to give.

his babies are starving,

as pelican tears streams reflections

of the pelican kisses she had

learned to trust.

“but that’s okay,” she thinks.

“that’s okay.”

she recalls the death of

her dad, and how his feathers

were sacrificed for something.

his feathers had meaning, like

the stained skin of her tear –

drop body turning red.

she knew her bridges were

burnt, the light of the heat

was being healed by the

pain of the darkness.

and she looked to her skin

that she had just pecked,

she has pierced her body so

her kids could be nourished

by something instead of nothing.

---

part eight: an ending.

her body was broken,

so her children could survive.

her blood was sacrificed,

for the price of his mistakes.

her feathers were taken,

and placed into the pillow –

case that i rested my

soft head on.

i lie there sound asleep

knowing everything in front of

me is the actualization of

a man’s destiny mixed with

whatever prophecy you have

planned for me.

like a pelican’s lovers actions

became the destiny of the mother’s

reality.

so it is better to rest upon

this tear dropped stained

pillow, then to place a case

to mask what it actually is.

because she told me all along

that self sacrifice resides in

the emptiness of a worn down,

beaten up, and broken pelican.

and although that now flightless –

bird is dead, she still means

something to me. and as her

feathers lie beneath my resting

head, i will never forget

all that i ever did.

because broken pieces can replace

brokenness with beauty.

and a pillow case can’t hide

what love has to do to survive.

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