i'd strung you up in twine and fine branches and
imagination fragments
your voice followed suit in feathers which i tied to
that crooked ring hanging up
how ridiculous to chain compression waves
when they are in fact like wings
in your throat

to pin you down in dreams was a fucking waste
like taking life from a gull
or serenading the soul of some captain
hoping he'll stay and listen
and peer through the torrents of rotating face
and open his lips to sound
like water

but your voice cast open webs
capable of trapping my lids so i could
drift off in something immense
something wider than wind and sharper than spit
i saw you in those depths as
tides realigned and i casted the net
i listened

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