He hung in the sky as deep gold in the streetlights,
it was like looking at all the broken windows in New York,
one night I decided I’d had enough,
I scooped him up like beach sand in my palms,
I was kisses traveling on the wings on fleas
I thought I said love. Maybe I said death.
I am not dead yet but I know I am dead. It is inevitable.
I shed ghost tears all day long and in my sleep,
the sky’s heart glows ghostly white,
and every ballerina beautifully falls
and then the damned captain laughs