All your life you tear at it, you rip it like paper.
A crossword-clue ghost, at the end it rips back. A spurred
word, it’s very fast, like sprint only no prints there—
who needs feet when the ground tilts so far beneath you,
wonderfully green yet complicated, a cross-hatching
of highways and fences, amazing! But oh for a roof
that isn’t red, red…a differently shaped pool! What’s
so pleasing about a kidney, anyway? Why ever go back
down? You bank and test the wind’s strength and make
it yours, like a plane you’re flying and you know how,
it makes sense, but where is everybody? Why are you
alone up here with this fierceness? Your bones hollow
like a bird’s, fill with light and air. You are becoming light.
You are a new singing and it is cold, colourless, and bright.