Am I inconsolable or incomprehensible,
With your fingers inside of me,
Curled like a bird claw, something flying,
And I on the edge of the bed, the edge of the falling sky,
Holding my breath inside,
And then letting go with clamor of noise,
Flapping wings fluttering from my mouth,
A pandemonium of need.

A puffery of noise flying over the wires at night,
Miles away across mountains and water,
And you tell me that it will be weeks.
90 days before you are here again,
My heart is a nothing bird,
A skeleton with no organs inside,
And I listen for you slicing through the air like starlight,
Our mouths open to one another.