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 ******.