ricochet
again
struck by lightning
s/he
traveled
spontaneously
holding something lost
briefly cupping
a birth of star
light years behind
already dead
as it glowed
their rituals in repose
bathed in fear
yet
clothed in hope
the world has its ways
to spin us
in love
or pain
and we think
all over each other
like paint sealed
windows
how sweet the air
must be
on the other side