Flight

Butterflies in patterned fray,
blunt cut grass,
and strong hands
sectioning the world as citrus,
on a rotating axis
the size of a needle's eye.

A flurry of birds lifting off
in frantic spirals over ocean,
they crash in their frenzied spray.

They slice the sun;
an omniscient jewel over azure.
Oh take, oh break, oh take me away.

What is the difference
between fight and flight?
Love and hate?

How long does it take
for a bruise to fade?

Will she be made new
once she has bled for seven days?
After forty days and forty nights,
drowning in a solipsistic sea?

Will land only find her
once she accedes to her saline fate?


--Alicia (2012)