She falls off the world,
slows the air- tight
in a breadth of compass
before it toes shadow.
My ache is high above
where she hangs--
unmakes me
on water drop breaths,
so they peel long tails
from unstemmed lips.
Still, she laughs waves
off her fallen wings
to hungry plates of glass
drifting too dull to break.
So much to say, yet at a loss for words.
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Thursday, September 20, 2012
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