delicate folds into endless
creases, the wrinkles
in mother's hands. asking for
more, taking
& creating new faces
when you think the last of you is gone.

& though the world may
    tuck away your
    flaws &
    pleat you into
    origami stars,
take to the earth,
uproot the trees.

stand tall as your last in-
carnation,
become the called bluff
& bloom in the space
between   sky
                   &
              ground.

                     before you hit the earth,
                     become the bird that you
                     are & perch on
                     opportunity.

somehow, i find
that i would rather breathe at night
holding stone-still in a cell of silence
drifting off into the
murky black of
everything
between the stars.

and although it is cold,
and dark,
and i oftentimes find my pulsing soul
sinking dangerously in temperature,

i would much rather embrace
this world of empty
than lose myself in
everything i must face in the morning.

i am a lock

and i have spent so long
pretending
the key
wasn't in my hands

that i
can't find it anymore.