What do you do when they hold up
Seventeen Mirrors
and you can see yourself in none of them,

none but the face next to you?

Who decided lust should be caged
like a wild animal in a trap,
our wings clipped
our drives lessened.

I don't want to live without
the hum of desire in my heart
a scream rising in my throat
the urge to create
and destroy

I have seen the shells
like so many pretty birds in pretty cages
unburdened by desire
but burdened by
their unburdening

I have seen the lights go out
one by one
and I recoil from it

Echanine had wings
and a warrior's heart
and though she is dead,
I'm not,

yet.