leaves flicker a tune
and the ghosts waltz at midnight
among the tombstones

I am unsure of who I am
and afraid of what I want

I love
I will try to better

sometimes you must be your own fighter,
your own believer.

wings beat fast a song
in the undertones of wind,
be mine forever?

fingers shake, skin tears
higher up the mountainside:
the climber's vision

the crow is dead and its eyes were open
and it had fallen off a branch, maybe
and it could have been sleeping,
body slumped in the dewy boulevard grass this morning,
but its eyes were open
and crows don't sleep that way.

I was surprised because death hides in all places,
except a ******.

it will not end here.

you, the one with violets in her lap,
the one, despite her mortality, that only gods may approach,
look at me

no truth was found in the fragments of sappho,
but what lies in all those lost to another time?