it was an early morning I decided
to climb the tallest tree.
the highest one with the most branches
and the one with the most leaves.
I had been productive the night before
with a few gallons of elmer's glue.
I made myself a pair of wings
with all those letters I saved from you.
I sliced with a thick knife
a line straight down my spine.
I let the flesh around it dry
and the cohesion worked just fine.
it wasn't until I climbed to the top
I began to sweat the glue to drop.
and all my savings of your every word
spiraled outward like a wounded bird.
so Iím just sitting here now
bare at the highest top.
and Iím looking below me
to every thing that Iíve lost.
my mother is pacing in triangles
and my father is coughing a lung.
my youngest sister stopped singing
and my oldest is biting her tongue.
my nodding acquaintances are scavenging
through the failure of my feathers.
grasping them with dirty palms
blindly viewing the ones I treasured.
but my nest here is now warm and kind
and what desire there has left here behind.
And besides, the sap here so usefully sings
and the leaves are destined to be my next set of wings.