Over the precipice, palpebral, she launches

Saturated autumn into which she dissolves

From a canopy rosy rose teeth dripping blood

Torn from her gums like her voices and thorns

Claws clutching cold to the tallest tree’s splinters

While the earth spins below on her zircon head

From liminal threads her frame suspended

Crackling away, like the sun’s fading light

From death denied, yet of life extinguished

She begs for fall’s kindness with flaccid breath—

Should she sing, she’d rise, yet there she dangles

Shattered in the wind but still hums like a chime

Drained of her darkness and acrid perseverance

No falling, no flying, she pierces the night