House Martins
trembling
crushed together
begin in the dark
the whisper of blue
waiting for their wings
flicked open switchblades
to slice open
the belly of the sky
ice skating in the wind
in the same moment
cutting and closing
the wound
their jet trails
white cotton threads
dissolvable stitches
fading back into sky
their graceful surgery
leaves no trace
scars like smoke
memory of home
tugged into air
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