Ode to my flock

When big hearts strike together, the concussion is a little stunning.

-Herman Melville

We need to invent a text

That shakes our bodies

Like the music we miss together

Something clean, sparkling, sexy

For nights we rebelled against the day

we got so easily ripped

we grew wings,

crashed parties on the moon,

and howled at the sun.

Oh dear friends, as your memory bullies

And you fight to be drifted away,

Remember we were birds;

Our songs were wordless;

The dancing will never be done.

So bloom and wilt how you must,

wildly until we are free.