My skull is an egg white like bone trembling yolk
to fill my jaundiced eyes and hope to hatch
from my forehead something virgin and warlike
into my incubator insides:
my spine its tail; my limbs, scapula to ulna,
struts for my skin
shall be its wings.
Vajra Chandrasekera lives in Colombo, Sri Lanka. His poetry has appeared in Ideomancer and Through The Gate, and was nominated for the 2013 Rhysling. You can find more of his work at vajra.me