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candice

thefeatheredsleep

they spoke a remote language she could not comprehend

unable to carve or sway confines of understanding

didn’t matter a jot

if she could balance perfectly on one hand upside-down with elasticized sea-saw legs

flip like rabbit, jack-knifing air in light arab-spring

write in ways others would clasp and stash beneath their beds

dress up storms on windy days, lifting skirts in kaleidoscopic pin-wheel

despite all, she couldn’t articulate her need, a rusty tongue possessing tornado dreams inked to black sky

improving the brush of stars blinking in indigo resolution, dramatic ebony moths frightening cream-petticoated girls

whirling in fanning explosion threaded with clay tongue, who bow with hennaed toes stained in feathered coal

these walls holding past in fluid mutilation, outgrowing our foil with tenderized wing

colliding in slow motion, we beat to protected fable beneath stained transcript

unable to understand language of numbers, though we count forever down to…

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