Paper Wings and Trampolines


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My stomach is made
from tiny trampolines
on which live
an army of tiny feet
which start to jump
the moment the sound
of your name
slides down my ear.
How is it that butterflies
can live inside a sound?
They fly down my throat
and join the bouncing
in my gut.
Their papery wings
flutter and
flap and
into each other
while the feet stomp on
the springy floors
of my insides.
Bells join in my heart–
I can feel them ringing out
the echo of your name
as it ricochets
around my body.
Your name pierces me, 
burning me up
from the inside.
I am a lightening rod,
reverberating your glorious flash
until I am turned into
a heap of forgotten ash.

4 thoughts on “Paper Wings and Trampolines

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