sorrow is a bird taking to an etherized sky,
flapping its wings as hard as its little body
will allow. soaring through weeping winds,
the clouds have retired for the night, and
so has the painter – there is no speckling
of reds, yellows, pinks, and purples.
there is only you,
and i –
origami bodies, mechanically operating
ourselves by pulling on flaps.
are we weightless?
i feel hollow, apart from
a ticking metronome,
and twenty-one grams, there’s nothing
in this body to act as an anchor,
i have no memory heavy enough.
the time will come,
taking to the skies like a kite,
loosely held onto the earth,
wallowing in the multitudes
of ourselves – i mourn,
because i exist.
carrying our own stars,
we extinguish ourselves
in the vastness of the sky
in a great whimper.