murmurations by Anthony Thomas Lombardi

fragments from Amy Winehouse’s stepwork journal 

as holy as the moon hung close i cried for no relief i couldn’t recite by heart, stupid & fearless inside a night so black it was almost blue. cherries lonely as an alibi grow red as Mars where the sun won’t bleed. some light takes years to reach us but like a headless bird flying in a free fall the stars could already be dead. dreams of war & a flood no one gets saved from keep my head on the ground listening for the fire that screams underneath & watching for foot tracks that don’t get lost in the rain, eyes hardened & endless as God’s silence. i’ve spent a lifetime in the throes of Heaven looking for a sky mad enough to save me.