a heavy-eyed rainfall,
i sit attendant to the shatter of
a quickened, liquid-silver-generous
a cold and antiquated window:
i pray it does not swallow my peripheral
as i swallow my pride.
i breathe and dream
(not at the same time)
and spit out the cold, watery air
left over from my drowning.
names forgotten, wings forgotten.
she reaches and i watch her,
my sweet mirror,
as she grasps feathers with her fingers,
an extension altogether