Shabnam Piryaei: “Pine”

I spy you on a rock at the edge 
of a cliff. a tiny figure 
hunched against heaven. the stupid 
expanse of a building-less sky.
I fear dropping you because I can. 
above you an angle of birds 
know precisely how to navigate. 
distance is like this.
leaving me excess space to play 
with my weapons. I hum
uncertain
beyond the provocation of your back. 
strands of me dangle from my shirt unwilling 
to be discarded. no god laughs
while slitting the throats of his children, I think.
you will stay at the edge of a cloud-rivered abyss.
in another expanse, clouds 
convene over the raft of a survivor, lip-split
and issuing confessions. 
here crickets have convened. shuddering
at the scrape of evening’s tongue
I lull
for your shadow to stand.