Rusting petals of childhood smear along my palm. Bitten flesh invites its venom. I fit snugly into this plastic cocoon, bitterly cold to the skin during the pulse of heat. The clouds invite me for a splash, a cannonball, direct hit. Careening out an open window, lunging my teeth beneath the grass, bulldozing memories of muddy summers. Nothing is as steadfast as these knees knocking together, fighting to find footing on a star. The band-aid on my right ankle has taken flight; I watch it flap up and out of grasp One, two, three; kicking feet, gathering oxygen. These dual chains drop from my growing wings as I pluck my own pocket of air and disappear into the sky.