I blundered onto the moors with my coffee breath and my hands
wrung blue with grief. The air was four walls, a darkened room
of mist, a grounded cloud that followed me, ghosted me.
I was crazy with his name his face the longing for him
the telepathic, tele-pathetic lifeline we shared,
my heart all strung up and spun around
I was dizzy with it, I was spinning.
I wanted to go away from him but I had nowhere to go.
I wanted to go to him but I did not know where to go.
He perfumed and bewitched the gray air
that cloaked me, spooned me.
It was like this for a long time.
After a while there was no time.
I was small.
I wanted to be even smaller.
I do not know how to categorize what came next
or what day it was but there was
one moment that changed it all.
I thought I saw the sizzle of a yellow bird
flicker in the distance. I thought I saw it leap
through a break in the mist, a little yellow flame.
I’ll never know what that yellow flame or bird was.
Was it delirium from hunger and desolation?
Was it a blip caused by a brain tumor?
Was it the grace of God?
I rubbed my eyes. I looked again.
Did it get sponged out?
I followed the organic path that led to it.
My heart had memorized it instantly.
The air was clear, my mind was clear.
I followed the yellow bird and it stayed clear.
I thought I wanted the safety and shelter of him.
What I really wanted was a systems shift.
I wanted to smudge out the lanterns of his
coal eyes burning at me across the moors.
I wanted out
of this Chinese finger trap
I’d been born into.
I wanted another story.
I wanted it to reverberate for eons.
I wanted my suffering not to be wasted.
All future orphans girls
would know my name.
They could warm themselves with it.
Yes, I was small.
Small and dangerous.
I knew then what I was meant to be.
A little yellow flame,
a brightly feathered bird,