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As I clench my fists
Pinions shoot forth
Bursting from my arms
Sprouting spraying flying--
Trembling muscle over bone
Pale skin stretched taut--
And no one will tell me who to love
Feel the prickle of pointed feathers
Downy soft and sturdy strong
Broad shoulders and chest
Taper to tiny waist
Long legs straight and pointed
Arching feet
An imitation of grace
I dance on the air
And no one will tell me who to love
I rise higher
To softly brush the tip of midnight
I kiss the face of God
And sip from the swell of eternity
No one will tell me who to love
No one--
But any wandering eye weeps to see
The dead child I carry with me.
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