I didn’t want to be the one who took the last thing. So said
The wind while it took what it pleased. Soon the wind fell
Into its long weird strong silent passing making loose wires
Hum and turning leafy branches into industrial-strength brushes.
It took us away onto edges of a broken legend. We rode on
A hundred horses whose teeth were ignited. Our flags filtered
Through fresh slots in our chests. Where we were one with the wind
It filled in our blind spots. Close to our chests did we hold windy
Notes left to direct us to a string of high ledges where we’d sleep
For the sake of sleeping with heavy chains on our ankles.
To dream up another way was our first assignment. Assigned to
Adventure said the motto on our buttons. The last thing we knew
Before we left with our satchels concerned how love withdraws
Moving backward taking with it everything, our names, this way.
— Dara Wier, from You Good Thing, Wave Books, 2013.