In the cloud ether

All of my flaws are rented, rendered
into fussy versions
of words spun into splendor;

I am a fraud, fraught
with contemplative curls
and whirled-around turns
into the lonely, dotted sky

and in this air I’m breathing heaving
gasps of any starlight,
leaving lips grazing on
along a faint horizon

caught in the mineral wave.

I will be etched into the sand,
and pass

into the tide of some routine Tuesday
morning when the world no longer wants
to look at itself in a pale moon mirror.