Here I go, taking up the sky, with a wing in each hand: I'm flight! The noun eats my body and spews out a verb and I'm seeing tops of heads, tops of trees, licorice tresses and crimson-dipped leaves, blotches of flaxen like melted canary birds. I find my sweet, silvery words and sing a song of star-struck eyes and out my whistle drops elated goodbyes to the middle world where I traded my feet to a soil-wed seahorse with a skip of relief. I'm gone! Skimming by Gravity's grave, I lay out a bracelet, 25 charms and counting, I'm mounting toward zero scales, broken rails, my fingers have scraped away at old locks, foresaken trails. I love this sky and it's fucked up wails. I hear you, Dearly Blue, pounding me with echoes, a sentence of bruises, storybook skin riding wind-caught recluses. I'm one of you now, my skin so mottled, indigo dotted and marbled. As pale as the clouds, a waxen death blow though I know there's no end at all. We all glow.