Primitive 03

the lightest fallen into the densest
a massive weightlessness
pure protection, blissful gift of flight,
sinking, soaking, drowning in hot, dark blood

intricate, uncountable, as only hair could be,
tangible, caressing, in its softness,
not a single, unified mass but rather-
see every individual feather
and within it every separate hair
as if they're only held together
by the comfort of their individual solitude,
their separation from their very own backbone...

discomforting. still, beautiful.
frozen solid,
as though even a strong wind wouldn't make them flutter
perhaps held down by that maroon gravity
you see
below, seeping
through
into them...
without dying