blaring down at me
sinking me with fired density
the Sun
against watercolored galaxies
I lift a hand
to keep me afloat?
To block out the rays.
I stare up into the cup of my fingers
the background makes it as though I
somehow
left fingerprint molds into the view
I lower my hand to admire the work
but it is not my hand, only birds
scattering in uniform
soft raven and charcoal against ripped blue paper
broad of daylight, I
stand in the middle of the world
every inch of skin
goosebumps rise
to greet the warmth with a kiss.