through the air of Oglethorpe
through the rocks of Chickamauga
if I could perch on your wing
and grow to kiss you
while the petals clap
on their opposing shores
we'd bounce around fern-clad ditches
with feet of sweet
anti-gravity
and the lightly woven
bows of cloud
would drift their way back to you
all articulate cells
and bell pull rope
so deep in my hands
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