I feel the itch
and scratch of
coarse polyester
grating, sanding
at my skin;
dreams of trying
to take off
into the air
before landing
hard with weight
pressing and flaking;
torrents of
dirty dishwater
swirling, kicking
up the rotten mulch
unbearable;
I hop and
recoil through
my day
as though life
is a hot poker
smarting and cynical.
Then
moonlight beckons.
And I remember
that the veils
have lifted
and I am in
the time
before I bleed.
Wood’s gradient sings.
I cycle along
the ridge of a great dam,
clutching at the wall
and I am the water
the drop
bicycle
all.
Soft grey
Rain
opens her arms
as slumbers of
Forgiveness and Quietude
stroke my hair,
kiss my brow.
I burrow
I listen
I receive
even as ground falters
and I tremble
at the mystery,
gape at the awe,
I feel my
inky wings
stretch,
finally,
and into
moon’s night,
I soar
ready to pore
over the glistening entrails.