The Day I Learned About the Vampire Ground-Finch

For the first time in years,
I thought of you —
the velvety notes
of your Thierry Mugler
that both nauseated

and captivated me,
the way your 6'4'' heavy build
pinned me to the wall
while your crew praised

you as a golden god.
After three years with you,   
I discovered that your entire
essence could fit into

the palm of my hand.
I wondered how I allowed
you to overtake me for that long.

Did I choose to ignore

your sharp beak as it first broke
       my skin, the insatiable way you engorged
       on my thin lifeblood

the way your shifty dull eyes gauged
       my tolerance to repeated pecks
       that were somehow indiscernible to me?

The day you decided I was of no use
to you anymore, you spread
your bloated, blackened wings
and pelted dust into my eyes.

I didn't grasp the value
of your absence then.
I do now.