Agonizing

In the intricacy of this morning,
just like any other morning,
I am fragile as a husk of the juvenile ghost
I once was.

I cling to the idleness of that haughty girl
as graceful as granite
jostled by the plumage of a body,
exhumed flaunting the deft hands

engorged with wanting,
consumed by thinking
I could keep myself
from the agonizing arrows

of another chance
to disappear into a cleft
of a day of organic despair
and measuring the blue of the sky.