After Maria Popova
When so much of you is a smog-filled sky
the causeway extends towards skyscrapers
half-demolished
when birds fly off precognitively from window ledges
I re-script my dream in which you’re alive
In the moment between fireball & thunder
I imagine a white rhino is born
In the moment between morphine & biopsy
at least one elevator is caught
one silhouette snatched head-first out of the furnace
In the moment between syringe & stitches
a white dress is gifted
between a single cell & metastasis
those stars stapling your waist string a line of kisses
.