Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
–William Shakespeare, Macbeth, 3.3
away quick away like starlings
leaping into air and twisting
back upon each other hand to
arm to face to laughter fearing
whatever is after will finally capture
and all the delightful falderal of life
will be stripped bare bones exposed
to air until every step we trip upon
will clatter like crows laughing from
frozen branches tangled with hair
(December 1, 2013)
subtext 