7-29-17

you are enumerating all the things used to define yourself, all
the junk and sharpened spoons you carved out your little "I" with
and then imagining each taken away one by one in the crow-hearted
darkness when you are helpless and asleep strummed by the airwaves 
of dreams. to wake bearing one less suitcase, one less brick
one less headdress of steel and weep maybe or search
frustratedly behind the couch but each night the claws and 
silent robbery until the scaffold lies bare and you ask who built this?
and why? but no one answers I did or because and the wind 
comes and goes through the tatters of your skin and at once you
feel on par with the clouds who are no longer silent but 
throbbing with agency and intent, bidding you to rise and be like
them, and if you hesitate  before cutting the last string
if your heart skips like a stone dancing sideways on a pond
who will criticize you? hesitation is about balance, abundant
when there is no weight left but the ohhh of the leap.
​