Tongues in the Stomach of a Wind Doe

A hawk child enamored
earth blazoned under a false pretense of free to let be
you are now free to scour harkened the dove mother
you know that I've been waiting for you to drop me from the branches
for some time now for weeks I've been speaking of it in my sleep
remember when we used to dream each others dreams when I shook
from the apnea and you whispered soft blue winds to calm the veins
of the leaves in my mind that tugged my spastic muscles
into fearful frets that could not stand the test of your fingertips
across my bald head the softer 'settle, settle, shhh, it's ok, settle'
dripping into my ears until the willow branches graced the dirt
leaving me calm and steady and sleeping sound once again

remember how we seemed to float in those days?
remember how we just fucking floated
we were birds and spirits and jet aeroplanes
waterfalls and free falls birds gliding on fire doused in flames
we were all the things that never touched the ground
a perfect silence under tilting wings
moving together never a sound
stronger than cornerstones
more resilient than cobblestone
we were the wind and the clouds and the rain
and lightening that fell from them
we were a four lunged entity separated at birth
and every time we made love every time we fucked
was an effort made in futility at linking rib cages
sewing hearts mouths and throats that twisted
between jaw and spine to find perfect new homes
in each others palpitating craving bodies
palms to palms and bones to bones
finger tips pressed into joined ellipses
falling into the cracks of you because
those were the spaces left for me to fall into
remember how we seemed to shine in those days?
remember how we just fucking shined

perfect setting horizons cradle
the rising stars in night casting
shifting silhouettes of us against the sky

I was the hawk and you were the dove
two spirits clashing then residing
a storming subtle wind that I am
destine to ride the tides of

a hawk child enamored
earth covered now after the fall from our tree
after the free fall turns to waterfalls under
a long awaited pretense of free to let be
you are now free to scour harkened the dove mother
I know that you've been waiting for me to drop you from the branches
for some time now for weeks you've been speaking of it in your sleep
but I fear if we do not fall now we will never again fly free
frozen in the snow above the rutting of the wind does
we will surely cease the blood in one another
never taste the west or southern shores and sea
the tides are rising and the weather is changing my love
in time with the falling fruit rotting resting
to breathe once more to live and grow again
two spirits grasping for the seeds sinking
into the moss of the morning glory trees
two spirits grasping a talon full of fingers
ellipses parting softly whispering blue winds dividing
the child the hawk the lover the dove
clashing then residing a storming subtle wind
that I am destine to ride the tides of

well perfect as we may have been in amongst
the leaves of the trees we built for ourselves
we will always fall through the cracks in one another
for those spaces have now become too wide for each other to cover
the child the hawk the lover the dove
the tides are rising and the weather is changing
it is time that we shed these tired and weary feathers
and reveal the true colors of a dividing flight path
the last of migrations and long journeys that we will make together
birds do not fly backwards over the hooves of the wind does
for this has never been nor will ever be the way the grass blows