Black bird in my head’s corridor,
unlatch from your grasp the scroll
of my old life story—I’d like for it to
like bygone wooden clocks
that fly in a straight path towards Sun.
Black bird, exit through my crown
chakra and transmogrify into a blue jay,
Ascend as high as you can, until you become sky.
And as soon as you reach Venus, transmute
to a phoenix. You’ll become but a star to me,
a luminous ghost of my past that no longer
© 2015 – Eva PoeteX