the whip-poor-will
cries so
plaintively
lately
though i walk
the every path
to find her
though i stand barefoot
in warm grass with
my right hand
shielding my eyes
from summer sun
she has only
shown herself
in song
so i
sit on the
cold concrete
of my back
stoop
year after year
in rapt admiration
the two of us ever
strangers
and unwitting
companions
all the branches
bowed down
last night
come to greet
the things that
only night will have
all the would be
leaves pressed
their faces
against concrete
and desperation
the only sound was the
tinny plague of
machines
still
all the ghost
flowers
shook off their
winter husks and
whispered
tomorrow
tomorrow
tomorrow
we
bloom
i knew i was
underwater
but i opened
my eyes anyway
let my stone body
sink into truth
watching the
slow world of
things that only
know cool
endless darkness
until the only thing
i could see was
firefly memory
i made friends
with the silence
beyond any
silence i
had previously
known
and when i
reached the bottom
i did not
flinch
one winged
one winged
one
winged
girl
streaking across
the mountain peaks
a blur of
lava and
a mouthful of
black
cotton candy
smoke
one winged girl
become an arrow
sweet and true
piercing the
very
sky
when you are down
i will carry you
in my teeth
let your seeds
drop along the
way springing
sweet grass in
our wake
yes i will put
you in the
river and
let the healing
waters
snatch you
away long
enough to
remember the sun
the forest floor
under your
feet
the campfire
vigils
our shadows long
against the vast desert
and
love
once you finally
wash ashore
you will grow
into
a great
oak
and there i
build my
altar
Alysia Angel 