Elegy (wax wing) 2007 Stuck in the wound of tears that shake hard, trying to stay the oncoming gag so I let the phone ring. There is no good place to sit down. Intent is all relative when I hear that plagued hint in your voice, that prettily wounded wax wing diving back to Earth, awe and sorrow all caught in your voice. Strange to think it, say it aloud, off you go boy with the heart-shaped lips. An elegy to sweetness kept like fireflies in a clear jar, so mesmerized by the glow you don’t know they are dying. Revenge plucked from his eyes, and I am the cool weather heaving from inside his calm center. Faith is the other girl on your lips, which makes me tightrope walk toward other things, my silly heart and lungs evaporating. All I ever pray for is ambition. Look for me soon, and I’ll be tipping backward.