And just like that

you are a hybrid creature—

part feather, part fur, red earth, yellow petal,

your face soft and newborn, your head wreathed

in tangle, wild aster gone by, a great claw growing fierce

from your side. The ones who loved you step forward,

quiet supplicants, one by one, two by two, taking time.

Are you holy now? Are we? Your grey eyes do not meet us,

your gaze fixed and unwavering on some far middle distance.

We turn back in the silence, small silhouettes

in bright sweaters, pinned like paper dolls

to where earth meets the sky.