I Forgot How to Echo

I left a

skyline

made of glass and fire

Traded chrome breath for dirt-road silence

The inbox stopped screaming around day five But I still flinched at

windchimes (You can hear now) (But do you listen?) I named the

silence after old machines

But it answered in stars

I forgot how to echo,

how to rush

Here, the clocks dissolve

in sap and dusk

No sirens, just the songbirds' slow

debate

And I breathe like I'm not afraid to wait (Stillness hums) (Sky

unwinds) The quiet scraped me clean

The crows called me by something I’d buried The grass

corrected my posture

I speak less, but mean more I sleep with both eyes closed

now I watch

ants carry a broken wing

And feel time throb through my teeth

(You’ve

changed)

(No—I returned) I used to count likes Now I name the constellations I

forgot how to echo,

how to scream Here,

even loneliness feels clean No

towers,

just the

moon’s delay And I breathe like I’m finally okay (The silence sees)

(The silence sings)

Now the snowflakes pulse to the sound of why?

And I moonwalk screaming

across the sky (Sky too weird) (Me too bright) (I

ain’t fixed) (But I

just might)