My eyes are not my own
For twenty five cents and
The clockwise spin
Of their wrists
Celestial bodies
Folding their wings
To vacate their duties
Among the stars
Taking witness to
Petal-ed beauties floating
Down rocky streams
Only to sail out
Among the endless blue
Vastness to salt
Click
The lens shift to black
A tickle on the back of my head
I reach to scratch
To find drops of water
Even when it isn’t raining
