Literature
in which the sky learns to trust the ocean.
i.
a twisted bone, a tail feather
and two broken wings do not give
us flight - an echo
in the wind is asking why we
are not making ourselves crows,
falling to somewhere that is
nowhere,
oh, these blades of grass
are worth more than this life
yet still i freeze in the
wind's breath
and wait
for you.
(i can't say i love you,
i don't know what love is)
ii.
we trace our veins in reverse,
all unmarked skin, invisible scars
and devoid of our own reality.
(tide said to the moon
undo me)
iii.
we are ashes of our embers;
a blank-slate, a swallow's mouth
inhaling regret -
i remember her
as the seeds of no-growth,
as