Your body is not my body
You don’t need to take those rocks from your chest and hurl them through my windows
I’m already broken enough
but the one thing that isn’t
is that I refuse to be afraid of heights
and every morning I get into a hot air balloon and float up into the sky.
that’s joy, flame underneath and bright colours up top
because down below is just a pit of all we could carry
My body goes through metamorphosis, heaviness into light to save itself
without doing that
suffocating in a mine shaft filled with stormwater
so I go up, whether you’re with me or not but you can follow me out, if you want to
And even if
even if we are on fire, so what?
you can grow many things out of ashes.
You say you’ve been burned before but I already lost my wings, time and time again this body has been alight
that horrible scent of charred flesh
then plucked like a dead canary, feathers ripped off
bloody back, kneeling down prostrate and praying to nobody in a tunnel with no end.
but now my god is eros
see I’m not afraid of flying, and no matter how many rocks you hold
this balloon can still carry you.