re-aging the permanent loan

the inside blade cuts
as gravity melts my weight
shifts and perfects a filigree rendering
my breath against stone still sky
the glide turns green, malachite; my mind
a smooth crystal descending
tips meet sky and snow as
it deepens- cups fill like spoons
the sky drops its clappers
for the dark bell of evenings sound
question nothing
i open the palm of my hand
and drag all that I've held
up, behind me- a carnival of
time and let the rumble of
thunder call up lighting to
burn this gray baggage white
as a destroyed sun until time releases
all old injuries and reverses
the current of my heart- its
measured beating washed in ice
and the sent of pine needles blending
a prayer formed of silence, speed and
freezing.