I rode to school on a bus
where my ear was pressed
to the window and
the vibration rattled my skull.
Have you ever thought of bees?
Ghosts living beneath them?
Are you aware more people die
from a vending machine each year.
What I am asking: are you afraid?
Do you wonder about the way
it might feel to explode?
I mean in the moments before
you are pieces
suspended in the air
aware of your skin,
beautiful before shredding.
I am lucky.
Out the window
are so many words
for this
I hunt day and night.
A feather to touch
the most tender part.