Crack the window
Find me in the left lung of the house's chest
I close my eyes
and let the sound of white wind trace
the shells of my ears with it's smallest finger

Ghosts sleep in the morning
Electricity finds its rhythm in my veins and
I start up again
Angels wake with bed head in their best denim
I pierce the bed skin to find feathers
                                            
wear metal
wear silk
wear flesh

I paint time lines in a circle
post them on the ceiling
and sleep with one eye open

I dream of feeling-
shut inside
believing perverse or the reverse