change from one posture to another in 108 succeeding forms the exoskeleton of a cicada chirps, translucency bodies were

so crushed under the weight of soil the face the hands, sand, from the sea bed skin takes on the color of.

table salt, an old style radio scratch of the needle before it hits the skin I feel pressure in and around my eyes.

Birds have eyelashes, buttery kisses between feathers soft as the hand over the surface of the water lavender elds, elds, ring around the rosie we all fall, drown. migration pattern in a spiral 108 succeeding forms.

One day I will touch the moss i saw a pattern sleep, a real color stones sleeping under blankets rock candy under plastic eece wrapping.

Origami cranes housed in eggs, concave cages sleep, no color moss growing over the sky

moths and mothers plants growing in tightly sealed glass jars, uttering to escape let your eyelashes fumble as they speak. mumbling a Swedish hymn, your hands are.

Pine needles hate breathing, thin inhale, what if we blew away entire y traps grow around your wrists I want to touch you, I do, my hands are opaque half-red, half-elusive It took 13 kites to prove they could hold down the wind

page by page by page by page by page by page by page by page by page by page, page by page by page by page (a bird whimpers) no, don't stop, keep going.

You wouldn't make it

The eeting iridescence of his body snow melts in and around us igloo in reverse a glacier wonderland the sonogram is empty

What do you have to say for yourself?

Just let me climb the last telephone pole, you know I need this. im too small to climb ower stems we crush them all 108 succeeding forms We can make them again, the shadow puppets,

the wall already has too many shadows

Gold-plated sea, ! ! seagulls with yellow bellies ! ! too many suns in the sky ! ! shield your eyes, ! ! we will not dive as deep

face into the ower print couch pollen eyelashes molten feathers vacuum the carpet before father returns

The arctic circle is a life cycle we can trust

White ash like the sand powdered sugar campre winter wonderland

scratch-and-sniff sandboxes speckled throats, cardinal egg to match keep your lungs open or you'll crack it

Put on your ns, tiptoe, 800 yellow suns above the surface, there must be a lot of seagulls along the bay

bones lay below us now, gardens of coral, dripping, into the night sea. intense sleep, so much color.

Lexi Roberts 2013 lexiroberts.net