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.


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