On the edge where
grey meets blue
and i can trace
the patterns in the sky
with my china fingers
my bony wrist-

on the edge of a cliff
where i can't catch
my balance [breath]
tempted to stand
en pointe
with my china feet
my brittle ankles.

on the edge where
the shore meets the
sand and i can
imagine plunging in
my broken body
right into frosty, metallic waves.

that's the edge of the terminal.
where grey meets blue.
and I can trace
the trail where you walked away
the ghost path [i start to cry]
with my china heart
with my fragile, china goodbye.