cedar waxwings

jealousy, old friend, we rarely have tea
anymore.
you were a lousy companion in my youth,
cause of a thousand missteps,
each pace until I left you on the road.
When I sleep, though, the herd of turtles
carry me on their backs,
and you transformed them into a flock of
cedar waxwings,
that my lover and his new lover saw
at the point of the island.
She wrote to him in a message
about the cedar waxwings.
How beautiful it was to see them together.
And the next day I realized it was all
you, old friend,
old trickster,
whispering your poison in my ears,
throwing corpses into the well.