It was like being part
of a pair of birds,
one of two,
mated,
matching glide for glide
along cool currents
in a blazing sky.

It was quiet
like a breath
that sounds giant
only in your own ears.

Hunting down a tune
through halls not quite dark,
but long and narrow-
like walking into a straw-
anyone could see
I was bared

looking for melodious moonlight

There was no harmony of touch,
only a soft drumming
like maybe my blood
wanting to move
toward freedom

After a shimmy
(or three)
and a scream
into a blazing sunset,
she broke something
within-
something that held her
in check
for too long.

She found a song
falling from her lips;
it was woven
of raptors and prey,
cracked shells,
clouds and wind.

Asking nicely
if you’d tell me
before you turned into a demon-
for some reason,
this room smells of doughnuts-
and the color of the gift box
reminds me
of the luxury tanning oil
I tried in high school
(before the myth of ozone).
I smelled of butter
and tasted of boardwalk in summer.
I still taste of taffy
but please don’t eat me
in full daylight.
Wait until dark
when we all change
and what matters seems less of earth
and more of a sparkly unrest.
I like when fatigue is earned.

I know it’s grey without tasting the rain.
I know clouds constantly moving along
without needing a reason to explain.

When it’s quiet I feel an ancient song,
not far away from where we linger now,
seeking my empty place where it belongs.

I know it’s too much, for the mind allows
slight watery veins to break open stone,
but not freedom of heart, not knowing how.

When it’s darkest and stars try to atone,
and pull at my insides dulling sweet pain
not understanding I want to know home.

No reason but floating on clouds we remain.
I know it’s grey without tasting the rain.