Wings

Pin-drop stillness.
The chain-saw is silent.

The immense crane
towers above the pit.
The building hovers
invisible over the street-scape.

Wings sprout from my shoulders,
my breast-bone grown hollow,
my mouth full of the breeze.
Blue flowers pollinate the night-sky.

Call me a miracle
to squeeze love from a stone.
We spliced the quick.
Our thread untwists
(blame the unlover)
he twines his strand
around another.