Lace Wing

Sixteen
when I peeled that green bird
from the drowning sluice
of the windscreen wipers
cradling her in a siren rush
to the classroom to blot
each fairy wing of fractionate
lace from the bomb from the sky
that grounded her.

Abdomen, thorax, parcels of curled body
drawn slowly back to life through
the wonder of osmosis.

She flew -