Uppity Trash

Two finely woven paper textiles
Tumble delicately across the grass.
They've both come completely undone
And float
Like two sea anemone along the floor of the deep.
Some unseen force it is that bonds them,
Keeps them tight in a dance.
The naked eye can't detect it,
But only a naked heart
Can see the mechanics,
The perfect crystalline forms
That click together like gear wheels
And move them to the silent song
Of the wind.

And some would call it litter.
Some would roll their eyes at the lovely way
These two escaped,
And now like the gossamer gowns
They imitate,
They float on a higher plane,
As a higher form of linenry
Than they are thought to be.

Well?
Is it uppity to be in love?
Very well then,
Let it be.
But if love should be a portal
To a higher plane,
Then let me be
So vain as
To trash myself upon the profane shores
Of unseen air
And unheard melody,
To dance my dance with you
For all to see.

-jenn long