no matter how less dense
i am – gasoline, drawn blood, feathered
wings, spirit being – the air
still finds a way to keep me grounded.
no matter how dense i
become – dead eagle, fractured ship, box
filled with stones – the waters
still find a way to float me. there is a failsafe
embedded in my veins, & no
matter how much suffering, i don’t die.
god. this is not the image
of you on the cross; this is not the crossing
at the blood sea; remember
i was there – at Eden, at the beach –
& no matter how dark the city,
the sun found a way to peel it off, shadow
by shadow by shadow.