nothing in me is set low

i move bloom to bloom
with yellow on my hands
carrying pieces
from one living thing
to another

useful
almost chosen
almost unbearable

then the sky
drops me

no storm
no warning
no new pull in the ground

just my heart
forgetting itself

the rhythm
that used to keep me
now stutters
in a room with no door

small wing
bent wrong

small god
losing signal

i lie here
with all this gold
stuck to me

did the season change
without my permission

or have i fallen
into time
with some other world