Fair Flying

Non-believer, your lashes fashion mystery—stories of thorny eyes, silk wine, blood spraying stone. Non-believer, you are the anchor in God’s ruby sea. Your arms are pillars, your mouth a cross, your skin scripture. Non-believer, you bleed Truth. The Gospel’s in your hips and fists, under chewed nails, traced fingerprints. You are the incarnate Unknown—something you hate so much—what I love most.

You find me on the balcony, where we froze the sun, where clouds made us drunk, where I now drop tears on new friends, who catch them in their mouths. When they laugh, the sky cracks and your voice carries on—a plow through snow—after winter’s gone.

I wake to rotting echoes in a throbbing world—a slipping spine. Unfurling vertebrae, clenching nerves, swirling bones unceasing—wedged between a hopeful skull and toilet seat. Knives tuck me in—s plit ego and will.

Forgets it sheds, Dreading its own Petals. Lives like vapor Lost in exhales. Splits satin lips and Wire wrapped skin, Smudged with spit.

I give you my love In rubies, gold, Tea cups and Wire wrapped jewels. But you don’t see. When you are a fish in mud, I catch you And sing: You’re beautiful, Enchanting, magical! You are everything. But you don’t hear. I caress you, I cradle you. I sprinkle You with gold dust, blow roses Into your blood. I kiss you and kiss you and kiss— But you don’t feel. I crumple your shoulders, pull you Into me like wind through Trees, but you don’t move. You stare at me through A mirror, hissing, I love you! Can’t you See?

This morning I am fog, Glistening with the illusion That you’re the bog I snooze in. The view’s nice, but it’s not The same as playing hide and seek With the fish in your cheeks. I could be the pond In your belly, the puddle on Your tongue, the lake linking Your legs, the mud in Your eyes that splatters When you smile, If only The fish in your mouth Played fair.

It’s not easy, squeezing into The suit you made me, But I’ll try.