Parading

the desolate air between us is no match

in school, they should have taught us beauty

By such contrary winds I’m blown in terror

but in hindsight I know the centuries

Is a wild sostenuto of the heart,

A nothing day full of

The angels were once as plentiful

seeks out / their hands, curls five fingers around a small and frantic heart,

You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,

I like to think I have a wing