We’ve softened control
just for a bit, but you can
still glide through the hands
of each blue day, become
a whisper that brightens
every window into sight.
Maybe you will congeal
a face, become more than
a presence of air, but that will be
a different day. Right now, you are
dreaming beyond freedom.
Even freedom turns into a fixture.
Today, you curve through fingers,
soft and dismembered from touch.