I'll tell the journalists

succeed, thrive, 

prosper

prosper.

I have a proposal.

As you walk upon the thin thread,

if you fall,

by some mishap of 

imbalance,

the skin on your shoulder blades will tear apart,

there'll be a huge rip but it'll sound like a breath--

they'll be gigantic,

pitch black or reflective white

both resplendent beauties in their own right

each feather speaking to you 

as if it has its own life

aching in effervescent solitude,

telling you to depart

to depart

and tip, top, up you'll go

up and up and up

I'll tell the journalists,

"Her wingspan breadth i simply cannot recount

their magnitude did crush the people of New York!"

but only those on the uppermost floors.

they were a brush to the street walkers,

especially those gathered by the a/c unit for warmth.

and if you do this,

prosper, 

trip and fall--

or simply let go,

another one will watch you, 

and break,

in a similar way,

the reflective ceiling above her head,

cutting out magnificent feathers made of glass 

from her very own back

to laws of gravity

glistening, defying 

a split second she will be in the air,

until the shards smash her down

to walk with the weight of a thousand scars

wait a sec

that doesn't sound right.

sort of constraining, don't you think?

yes, 𝘐 should get out.

wom̶e̶n

what does that leave?

a 3-letter word for triumph.

past tense.

the matter itself was settled

long before we were ever born

lol

no, but really

like, low-key 

but quite high-key actually