Fate is a dark angel and deaf to our desperation + doubt.
Every kite ever flown, every first day of school,
the photographs taken when his blonde hair would still curl
are no consolation; considering the sweet tinctured sea that
swallows the soul so brutally + without remorse.
Still, the boy rises with every broken moon,
hovering + helpless while a voice whispers,
“You should land my hummingbird.”