She is a walking open wound,
a portal to older realms where poet philosophers man the healm.
She is a broken bough,
an open bow,
a courtsey to unseen couriers long off stage right.
It is 3 hours plus into the longest night.
I stare at a starlight sky and inhale saline while i blink my eyes at the streaks and sparklets.
My heart longs to be sailing, but i can barely stand on dry land as it is.
Copyright © All Rights Reserved