Reopen

on the eighth day on earth, closeness was harshly replaced with closedness. not even an ounce of me had to leave this flesh. on the ninth day, i wondered not even if it helps them and it doesn’t steal from me? not even? on the tenth day, i allowed tired weak hands to reopen and grow desires and little things to long for and time with one little piece. it was so little inside me,

now it’s enormous. its wings scratch the sky.