​

 

She sat across from him at the little table by the big window, 

steam rising from her coffee as hemlock spilled over his tongue.

He watched the skin wrap itself around

her opened blister and his cooling cocoa.

He would not suck the poison from the wound.

 

“I forgive you,” she said.

She ran her beak along the spot where he broke her wing, 

puss oozing from her wound.

He coiled about the cup and closed his eyes.