No eye can hold us.
We fly like Char’s swift.
We do not touch ground.
Our joy sounds like shrieks
Trapped in your skull’s house.
Do not shoot us down.
Your rules, like your breath,
Puff the wind for us,
Just to hold us up.
All the beasts of land,
All the fish of wet,
All the roots that grasp,
We are not like them.
We live all in air
All our lives, not some,
Small black weights that push
Up and do not rest,
Slight lives graced slight death.
Wednesday, June 30, 2021
You Can’t Take Our Slight Death
