Beat Control

I watched her, flying paper kites into the skies,
with long ribbons, tailing behind with ink blotted
lies. I watched her eyes, I watched her eyes and
her cold face teetering on felt strips with her toes
like a ballerina, with her body like a tyrant.

Her face lit up in the shallow cracking on the lake bed,
her body from the neck up peering off into the distance.
It flew further away, those paper kites. They flew until they were
like Egyptian pigeons; you couldn't see the faintest of movement.
Not even the reflection of the sun in their tails.