star charts
blueprints
for starlings
the ones
who hollow you out
leave a cave
for another
to place
a candle in
I won’t speak to you again
I will still sing to you
songs white as whispers
same frequency as ghosts
I like how the last of the light
lingers in the tree outside my window
clings to all its small leaves
clinging to the branches
heart a grate
full with ash
carried out
to the garden
on a warm
windy night
curtains need the breeze
to touch the room
a little more
storm in the earth
night bright
with the peeled back
bellies of leaves
begging for the blade
I wonder if the candle
is sucking smoke
back into its body
my heart
more cave and cavity now
waiting for the collapse
light soaked into
a longed-for letter
never sent
never written
there is another show
long after
the main event
the cacophony of clowns
become stroked cymbals
the trapeze artist
tiptoes over the camber
of the milky way
suspended in a puddle
the human cannonball
curls like a cat into its crater
dreams of petri dishes
blooming with flowers
the sword swallower
lets the hilt lay in their hand
for a little while
before laying the blade
amongst the blades of grass
starlight soaks into the steel
the juggler
stands the pins before the fire
their faceless faces watch
the feathers of flames
smudges tears over shy smiles
the contortionist
hugs their knees
unwinds a story into the pool
of their shadow
the fire breather
feels the smoke
feeling its way
through the dark of their body
fingers soft as silk
in the morning
just the footprint of the fire
where god
stubbed out their cigar
or
where an elephant
bruised the earth
balancing upon one foot
its trunk
held onto air
rooms lit by storms
and midnight snow
the poplars are still
silver shivers inside
ripples repeating themselves
within the pillars
of their trunks
scarred skin
doesn’t collapse
when carved