I beat a stillness
of blue tissue birds
from shreds
learning to fold
smooth
chrysanthemums
gold and violet
colors run deep
as solitude
Mine was the loneliness
of comets
so high
and untouchable
that only the most
foolhardy
dared follow
the brilliance
of my tail
that singular shiver
a hollow consummation
I could not hold
for the tearing
of hearts
no longer muscle
a sheer tissue
I learned to fold
again
my body circling
legs around waist
arms against chest
and these gentle birds
flutter wings
heart and heart