Rainbow Bones
Womanly
Posted by Paul Ricciardi (Rock Hill, United States) on 2 February 2007 in People & Portrait.
There is a press
of sheets.
of hands.
of lips.
full bodied of course,
like you
like she
was.
there that day as we learned to fly,
or was it, learned to fall without stopping?
I do not know.
The spedometer reads 95
95 white lines flashing by the spokes of my wheels-
white lines flashing, sheets flap flapping wings of a grey seagull
sandwhiched between the sheets of the sea.
she said to me.
And the violently violet canyon of lights and lines and steel
rushes
or rather we rush to it
as we tumble, tumultously of course, from the belly
of the iron winged beast.
and it is there and you are there and i
am not.
glass shatters as you tear through the top floor of the tower
silently.
hush....
we're flying now.
