I want to swim through the sky.
Right now it's a gulp of something cold and dark,
sculpting mountains in the distance
with clouds at the bottom like dropped clothes and plump toes.

Angels, do you look where the snowflakes fall?
Or do you just rub your elbows along the highest points,
brush your hair with the jagged pieces and let it loose?
I would dance in jubilation, invent words and reinvent unicorns,
drop a new language like a bomb and blow everybody kisses
if I were an angel,

I would tell people that words, paint and piano are the same thing in different bodies.
I would pet the muttering dogs,
show people trash on the streets and say, look, how beautiful,
and then I would fly off into the perfect water sky.