The end of me

Like the final flap of the wounded duck before it crashes
the words leave my mouth on a desperate flight:
I love you.

I know it's true, the cactus bloom told me before the morning,
before the moths inhaled its wilting veils with an orphan cry:
I do! 

And when I joined their swirl around the sun, surrendering my wings
to a sweet and painful singe, a searing sound:
Again, again, again.

At last I stitched my burning body with a pearl head pin
onto the rising moon,
up from the smoke my heart exhales:
Forever.

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