My Wings

                            
With the bright green hedge clippers
you lubricated for me
five days ago, 
I cut off my wings 
and it didn't hurt


They damaged my spine
when I kept bending 
under their weight
and
it was too hard 
for my colleagues 
to pass me
in the narrow corridor


The doctor told me 
the wounds would heal
before spring
and
the raw scars 
(treated with the latest argan oil ointment
that smells so divine)
would pale 
to embellish 
my olive skin
and to complement it 


In an arctic airtight pocket 
of my favourite jeans
I keep the seven stem cells
that I extracted 
with my slightly webbed fingers
as an embryo
Just in case I need my wings back
in a new life


Check this song out