Poem: Fused to the Impossible Blue

 

butterfliesIncinerate this sadness,

the way it blossoms

just under my heart.

Push down the old shadows.

Make me a towering oak

on a cloudless day in June,

or a hummingbird fused

to the impossible blue.

I’m tired of this oily numbness,

how it blooms like a red tide.

Rip off my skin, let me bleed away.