RELEASE
NIGHT
CLINGS TO HIS KISS.
HE WILL TAKE ME,
WOUND IN LEATHERY WINGS,
HIGH OVER THE PLASTIC HOUSES
WHERE MEN AND WOMEN
DISENTANGLED
LIE LIKE MISMATCHED DOLLS,
THE MORNING AFTER TASTE OF DISENCHANTMENT
COLLECTING TARTLY
IN THERE MOUTHS.
I LONG TO FLY
BUT, MOMENT TO MOMENT
MUST CLING TO HIM
TO REMEMBER LONGING, TO
RENEW BELIEF,
TO ASSUAGE THE TERROR
OF FLIGHT
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