December 5, 2011
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Mountains graze the sky around you.

You leave oil on my heart—stinking, slippery.

I am a sobbing machine.

I am no longer able to live like a bird—you took that from me.

(Have taken. Will take. Take.)

Spin out time like the thread from the spools of spiders,

And touch the cold gloom.

Leap and twist and caress and crush

That heady, darkening madness oozing from the heart of me.

Burn me like the fires that leap in your father’s house—

I will dance, and flicker, and, blinking, rush out in a puff of blue,

Leaving only smoke.

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