She May Be...

Guttural growl from asphalt sinkhole
screams in pitch of street light synchronicity
dazzle her eyes like hard candy melt
the taste of saccharine rocket fuel
…and she falls away, falls free, she gives to
Gravity pulling
Blood running thin from her nose
like juice of a pomegranate
staining her fingers in surface contemplation
Lips crescent and phase
as witness to a language homicide
a violent ending to words that never formed a coherent thought 
Blood pooling thick
slipping the dark caverns of her skull
silver coating the roof of her mouth to protect from the heat
Her body temperature runs high
incinerating dreams and inhabitants of her repressed memories
picking them off one-by-one
(unconscious huntress)
they dissipate in sunburnt waves of rattle percussion
atop a long stretch of desert asphalt
leaving imprints in her vision that make her swear she had them in her hand
like a stunned bird recuperating from high-rise plate glass trauma
Sleep laced words slip on tip toes
(how they try for grace)
…down, down, drown in the swallow
where undertows of acid hell fire take hold in serrated locked jaws
…and death roll
her skeletal fabric remnants
thrashing in chrysalis cell safety— morphing
The warmth offers a slow pull suffocating disintegration
as chemical combustion erases any trace of emotion to escape
the heart of all matter
—a distant planet turns within itself—
Flames burn the silhouettes within her flesh
(alcohol sealant permanence)
fire eating reanimates life
if only for a moment they breathe
…shared lungs, scar tissue tenacity
Her body a twirling carousel in dance
(insanity or a capacity to simply let go in the go)
she pirouettes into ash
…windswept, wind song
(Death extends, but still finds himself increasingly distant)
Blood like star fire
she never knew what stole her
she just took flight
…far, far, far-gotten
She may be earth static
she may be the moon
she may be the womb to birth a Universe anew

E.A. O'Connell