She looks at the sky.
Says she thinks stars are a dare.
In her hands she holds a peach.
Then a lightbulb.
Then a planet.
There is water in front of us.
It moves like a wolf.
When I look at her hands again the planet is gone.
Birds begin to land all around us.
They take off their wings.
Under their wings they have new wings. Nothing hurts.
She pulls the flight feathers and threads them in my hair.
When my whole head is full we stuff feathers down our sleeves.
The wolves are lifting knives in their grey backs.
We are so small.
When we are done filling our coats we go out to the cliffs.
We are high enough that the ground below disappears under clouds.
The air is thick and slow as honey.
The sky is full of songs.
We stand at the railing.
Climb over it.
We never see ground again.