you draw wings on your back
with nothing but a felt-tip pen,
nothing but sheer determination
& a prayer staining your lips.
climb skyscrapers to see universes
sprawling beneath your feet.
seventeen & reckless, seventeen
& invincible. you are infinities
& constellations caught in skin,
something brighter than this mortal existence:
the world is but a teardrop cataclysm
in your palm, something between
catalyst, catastrophe, calamity, &
dear icarus, when the ocean devoured
you whole & picked your bones clean,
were you real for once,
did you glimpse the sun racing
beneath your fingertips?
(was it worth the fall to bathe in gold
& play god for a moment?)