The pythons on the branch
and you were headed upstairs
to greet it, tongue first,
lips pursed
willing.

Wet chunks of shattered glass
singing through flesh,
singing in multiple octaves
howling in pain and you
took your hand away to
kiss serpents.

I reached out for you.
Furniture rising to the ceiling,
air escaping, but me and the
love seat float upward toward
a new heavenless home.
We see a new horizon.
We breathe not of our own accord.