kite cut

there must be

wind in my bones

for they move me

to the branches

that bring me up

to the top

and let me hang there

broken and rattling

a failed chime

which no one listened to

*

after everything

i have learned

there isn’t everything

in after

and even less

in i

*

and then

in the end

i will look around

trying to figure out

how much of it i was

and it was me

and just as the clouds

are shaping into something

maybe me

full of water

falling into the understanding

that all there was

was is

*

i forget

that i am the god

that back then

invented other gods

who would forget me