Homing 


my fingers twirl and nudge the

belly of my hand,

let go and 

fly…

like feathers

holding passports,

unfolding 

past flights of moral trees combing windy haired cock fights and 

fins of flying fish

flying south, missing north 

me and my pigeons looking for 

a beak of bread

a lighthouse full of 

palms and psalms…

feathery fronds floating east 

and west 

dipping our heads, cooing prayers…

we fly home

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