in the fog of a cold summer,
you shivered like a seismograph
tremors assaulting your faultlines
and i took you in my arms,
zipped you into my ribcage to keep you warm -  
you shivered to the rhythm of my pulse,
hot blood exiling
the summer chill.
from the fog of a cold summer,
i took you into my bed,
plucked your feathers
to keep you with me;
made dreamcatchers from your feathers
to keep the nightmares from your mind.
shivering seismograph,
can't fly with bare wings.
through the fog of a cold summer,
i walked with you,
held your hand
anchoring you to my side,
shackles between  us
keeping you safe
[you can't fly in this fog
little seismograph:
the clouds will eat you up
the fog will wrap around you
and dash you against the rocks.
oh, you are beautiful,
but you won't be when you're
bleeding broken on the talus,
your bones escaping your skin.
blood breeds art
but what use is art when you're gone,
when you've found your feathers and flown]
in the fog of a cold summer,
you asked to leave.
i need to fly, you said,
i need to become lost
in arms of mist
and fog.
your ****** arms aren't enough,
your ****** arms are staining me
corporeal.
just keep your arms around me,
just remain in my ribs,
just close your eyes
and let me be your
air currents,
lifting you above the talus.
i can fill all your fault lines,
i can ossify
all your fissures.
i'll fill your hollow bones with my
hot
blood
and exile the summer chill.
in the fog of a cold summer,
in the wake of a muscle spasm,
you fell from the sky
and i caught you,
plucked your feathers
so you could never fall again.
little seismograph,
shivering to the rhythm of my pulse,
i will keep you
so warm.
i'll keep you safe
in my cage.