The Kite Elegies

1.
if my bones were hollow
and my heart a kite
I might flirt with clouds,
wag my tail of torn sheets
and twine, charm the wind
to lift me pas de deux
into the sky, a dance
of hawks and dragons,
tissue paper pulse and crackle,
you might be my tether,
my hillside,
or I may cleave to
the wind and snap
the delicate cord
that binds us

2.
my heart, the kite
soars a mile into
the clouds (cirrus
strangers sighing
at the end of the bar,
smoke rings thundering,
flickering neon — auroras
singing a last embrace)
I am a dancing paper bird
an origami swan, fierce
and untethered, drifting
into trouble.

3.
trouble begins with a hole
in your heart, a rip, if you are
paper,

and when rain cascades across
your body, you will fall,
bridle twisting, rag tail heavy,
a brutish storm,

I kiss the sun, but still
descend in an awkward tango,
spine yielding to the devil
in the wind, spiraling
like leaves in autumn
before they scatter
on pavement.

Oh! impact — sparks fly
from the power line and I,
who danced in the clouds,
a wonder of lift and grace,
crash in an oak tree,
my tail raveled
and bridle, cut,
no more face,
just bamboo
struts and spine
not kite, not heart,
just gravity.

4.
old kite string
wrapped around
an oak branch
for so long, it has
embedded in the bark,

the struts and spine
lost — tinder or trash —

but this string,
after that first rain,
lightning, thunder
shredding the sky,
its loosened tangle
landing bebop rag-
doll after the fall,
conjured a new way
to name itself —
now “branch,”
now “tree.”