From an air-pressed square of neat concrete
    I shimmy up a chimney, wriggle and bleed
    – The time is now, the release –
    and coal streaks my brow
    when I crown.

    I swoop toward the trees and loop lazily
    Through broken fingers. Mine smudge and fade.
    They cannot clutch a briefcase –
    I am not human. I pause
    and stare at the sun. my eyes dim
    ‘til, blind, I circle one:
    Thicken or fade
    Whoosh –the thick-cheeked wind
    Blows my hair into whips.
    My lips start to drip.
    I solidify. Not on earth, nor in the sky –
    But somewhere, meltingly, between.


    blog comments powered by Disqus
    Please read our Comment Policy.