At dusk we toed electric tightropes in the rain—
each heel to a different riverbank’s throat.
I’d say—this is ballet.
this is how to be beautiful.
It’s all about angles. It’s all about
the way your palms shuffle amber
out of my eyes. One nail to the seam
of Orion. Sparks of him flaking off. Like stars.
You’d say—this is welding.
this is how we fix him.
AJ Wolff is a Midwest poet/wanderer/human. Her work is published and forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Yes Poetry, Neologism, Parentheses, Firefly, and Arcturus.