Muzzling between thought and sound,
a striking gentleness. The color behind
your eyes lies. I have often walked
through this limpid circle of transmuted
noise, allowing each step a gazelle-like
landing. You follow behind me, and I
behind you as we become estranged to
faces and akin to backs. In air we circle like
royal hawks, I catch your tail feathers
in my mouth. Ostrich blue, and flamingo.
A piggy backing of dance and pause.
Together we have created a divine vulture.
Rise and we death roll.
Sleep and we can’t scream.