The sky is caught
behind the clouds...

It seems
my soot...

I am electric.
Full of streaming lights and silence...

Speak slowly to me
as you touch my lips...

Mix it slowly-
silver spoon...

I ran from you,
a skittish yearling...

Find me here,
behind my words...

On a stormy Sunday,
when I'm eating chocolate kisses...

Like a pinwheel spinning
a child dances...

when you tell me that
I'm beautiful...

Snowy sadness filling up
the shallow cavities from which...

She felt bright and shiny
and a little bit new...