A Delicate Celebration
We mirror each other. My arms reach as your arms reach. My fingers graze your spaces with the tenderness of our sameness. In the still night, your light will lead me home, as will mine for you. Should we suddenly stumble upon a winsome wind, and fly away, your rebirth will be my birth, and your new songs as yet unsung will be the end of my silence.
On days when quietly being together, I think some songs were written just for us.
You're my funny Valentine, entirely unphotographable, you squint every time. But I love how your nose scrunches up in those pictures.
When hurt blossoms, it is the sharp motion of untamed swords, the blue sky of a rainy day.
Dark eyes and a multitude of arms grab in this tournament of decay. Even in stillness the alien landscape trembles with a strange beauty.
the charcoal forest
Amazing that a piece of burnt, discarded piece of trash would bloom such vibrant colors. The blacksmith plunges the raw iron into the fire, works the billows, and the swords, like an army of color, grow shape.
After the long journey they dock at the first sight of rest. A rusted nail, a barren place. But there it was restful, and they lingered awhile before leaving the shadows behind, their wings whirring in the darkening twilight.
the one waiting by a window
I saw him drenched in a blue sigh as he waited, the one by the window.
the slim and dandy dancers
Slipperly sashaying through the scintillating light, the slim and dandy dancers caroused through the neon night.
the turbanned bubble blowers
Like trumpeters, cheeks tautened with stored breath, they nod together and simultaneously blow, striped turbans floating in the thick expectant air.
some fairies are blue
You don't see them, they see you. If you looked closely, you would see the wide eyes and the most graceful lashes. They hide under your feet.
They knew. It had been a few weeks coming. The anticipation thrummed in the walls of the house. When it was time, they barely had a moment for a real goodbye. The wind came suddenly, and carried one, then another. Then all of them. Gone.
r e a d y
He was poised on tiptoe, waiting but not knowing for what. He had heard of flight from the rest, it was a rumor that hounded them since early days. But it was shapeless, and mysteriously exciting, like the wind itself.