She Moves

a single thought, in a number of words. I'm not really one for efficiency in prose.

She moves through air
and verbs. She fell,
is falling,
will continue
to fall.
Follickles perform a
movement, their
allegro surrounding skin,
like waves against a dorsel,
soft flames from a kite-
weave the single, fraying end
through our honeycomb,
with helix fingers.
Conducting silhouettes of sparks,
behind the darkened air -
cutouts dont make
final cuts.
We flicker through the
sequence like flicking
through pages, double-guesses
bouncing off the walls.
i stand in balance,
inches from the curtains.