If I were a kite
I’d be a skein
Of flimsy turquoise threads
An elongated waif
With percussive zeros
Stitched into the surface
Like an anodyne’s red print
I’d sail as a spade
Pummeling the intractable wind
As if it were a bastion
Of multifarious veneers
I’d skirt the powder
Of interstellar debris
As it wafts pre-personification
If I were a kite
I’d fashion bassinets
Of untenanted clouds
That I might remain amongst
My native contradictions
Like a funeral shroud
Or a trans-migratory relic
mindlovemisery 