The Woman Who Fell From the Sky
And the sky burned above her
and she swam
through milky flame
and her tongue burned
hopeful and
free, gliding the tree line
eying crossroads
and nests.
Dust and devils of
wind
and emptiness stretched
across red sand.
She hugged
her name to her chest
that vivid spell
on her
lips, wide
mouth a river
meandering
across the meadow
of her face –
tree above her
a last
pale word, a web
of shade and a language
of cloth and tongues
a gift
found with a blind
hand, house with a chimney
and bell, musical shrub
rope braided with golden sparks
tossed into the careless sky, a fallen
woman tumbling like rain
down into the mirrors of my own drowned bed.
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