Alternative, Hour Twenty-Three

Alternative

My dreams of late transport me
to both a different place and time.

I am a child once more, though
my legs are broken, and I travel by
means of wings.

I twist the muscles between
my shoulder blades
just so to unlock them.

Majestically, they rise from my back,
and I join flocks like myself
wheeling across the sky, and suddenly
my broken body matters no more.

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