when the sail unfurls it's a map and when you're a moth it'll pour from your back

[nonsun_blob_a]

from petals to train tracks, steam clouds to old, attic-ed maps
velocity creates connection like postcards sent across a synapse
but when sodium enters the wounds it slits the wrist-like wire;
you can sit in the sand and watch the bridge collapse
while letters rain down like upwind there's a fire
and it's precipitating my pillows into stalactites of ash

parallel lines die alone.
and if we ever meet again it'll be in a house made from our bones
speaking tongues out of mouths that no one else knows

and there your arteries will whisper: we all have to go but we don't have to go alone
because every wavelength of light is a kiss goodbye, a monument of luminescence to the ones you leave behind
where time opens your cocoon and you fly out into this night
so i'll hold your hand down the corridor of your temporal lobe
and whisper: spread those gray wings, love, and find your way home