How to Windmill Arms

How to Windmill Arms
by Layne Auburn
Twisted skin like abdomen burning.
Breaching the fine line between surface and cloud.
Autumn sky filling deep pores.
In each flight – a plethora of vulnerability.
A stomach full of fluttering moths.
Jaws hanging loose, wide in awe of destination.
Past green bristles of pine and above tips of orange oak.
Cutting into new worlds with dull knives.
Quenching hungers for excitement – we savor the lemon.
Reaching so close.
The powdered cotton, moist with a thousand morning dews, embraces forms.
Between two lush pillows, leaking lonely water – Windmill Arms.
Fly higher.
Seek deeper.
Eyes round with too much white.
Windmill Arms!
Only at the top does the sky begin to sing.

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