Reach to glass
to metal
struts and juttings
that wail under
the pressure of man
with each rise and pull
we go higher
we go higher
the moon is a
sanctuary to which
we strive
a pool
where we bathe
and soak in light
let it give way
the ground is
a distant nuisance
a stopgap
in only our
the air passes through
lung as birds
lunge, synchronised

Prop yourself up and wait
for the heart to ascend once again.


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