7/9/9/11

O

indigo star

with surface

of black molten rock

forgotten sun suspended

at the crossing

in my chest

please

hold my weak thoughts

in your out flaring palm

like the wormhole

from before my birth

deciding where next

should I place

this homesick

passenger

then

when I'm ready

unfold my identity

like the first teacher

of origami

who rewound the crane

back to the blank page

so her student could again

hold emptiness

and now

with your own

still fingers

follow the creases

back to the winged

image the great heart

its comet tail

landing down

at your hometown

from heavens dark

and rolling