something about wind

i.
gust, ruby waves, a flame
beating and calling and breaking
the tame, the hold placed on souls
that hold their own breath;
that mutter more but will
not chase; that catch
their writhing tongue behind
their teeth; bound wrists like
lakeless fish; fingers shiver
for flight- to flee, to breach

ii.
blowing through me and
catching in my chest-
spin, build, stir, brush
up next to the harsher parts of me,
hardly internal, that bruise
slowly the vulnerable in others;
erode both façade and truths
that should not be true
and leave me human, only.

iii.
sweep my skin as you pass
and glassy eyes go dry and ask
do you feel? yes; less:
heavy and penurious and pressed
hollowed now and thirsting
for movement, to be
drowned in another's depth, to
be full and still
filled more, for foreign hands
and minds and a certain kind
of alone, for an expanse within,
to be gradual in gain, sudden
in knowing, to be wind.