​What Did I Love

by Gabriella Sharp

Fly with me up to the sun, you deserve no less,
as we dance in the torched feather dress
of your mother’s last name. We will sing tortured shrieks
as we hurl to the Earth’s unwelcoming seas
but as I sink deep you’ll fly away.
The ashes cooled against my wings,
I’ll try to choke gracefully. Spitting as I grasp your
actions your choice, your voice. Always with the last
squauk here, the last cry there. But once we burn
you escape to the moon’s gentle glow.
But little do you know,
your kind’s even too cracked for the ever cratered rock.
So as I gargle for a reminder of my throat, at least I know,
you’re no longer flying by my side.