Darkling
beak. I am bird
or beast, speaking in language
of night. I cry in comatosed
echoes of yesterday. I am
consumed by black. Feathers
fall like foliage. I am molting,
a flightless folly, fluttering nowhere
in visions of forever.
![Image of Molting](https://images.bigcartel.com/product_images/175796531/2016_molting_2a.jpg?auto=format&fit=max&h=1000&w=1000)
Molting -- Gregory Hergert
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