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When Wings Grow Weary

As September chills this capital city
and the fog begins its slow climb
into the hills of a Michigan Fall
a man will take you
under and inside of you
will slice muscle from bone to
the black hole where once
you gave me identity

I want to be the one reaching inside of you
slipping my prayerfully pressed palms
through your skin
opening you along your breastbone
pulling apart your ribcage
and climbing in to nestle around
your heart returning
to the deep ocean where once
you gave me life

Inside
I would knead my feet against your heart
and press my outstretched hands against you
to seal up the unscarred bone

Your flesh would grow together again
leaving only the ghost of a cross
marking your chest with love
to balance the mark of death
you have carried for so many
and such darkening years

Gnawing
I would soften them
spinning silk from the sinews of
a body turned against itself
I would weave these strands of love into
newborn wings

Sucking the power of new-made blood
from your marrow
I would fashion a plate of armor
fastening half-moon circles of bone
china to your chest with my saliva

and taking one of those body demons
I would roll it in my mouth
over and over
coating it
until I had grown a mother-of
glowing pearl nipple to sew onto
your newly sparkling chest of gold

I could replace the home
in your heart that I lost
decades ago but only now is gone