If
I had legs I would fly
If I had arms I could sing
If we had wings we might think
music
echoing around me
wrapping
in slow looping circles
irregular
warping orbits
wobbling
horizontal lines
running
like electricity
tiny
roots of pale plasma
sound
waves bleeding between senses
vibrating
the threadlike spines
If I had arms I could sing
like
a raven kissing the drunken moon
One
leg hanging
careening
arabesques
silhouetted
or silver lit
in
the brightest darkness we know
If we had wings we might think
toward
the mood where hips flip
and
a drum pounds around us
toes
dangle toward the ground
hang
on the warmth
of
remembered melody
light
and shadows flickering
the
varying lick of firelight
dancing
in the dark
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