I’m telling you,
I used to live in the wind.
I ate its fruit.
I can still feel its juice on my face.

It makes me sick to believe
I am as mortal as you. Can you know

what it means to be held
prisoner by the Earth? We caught and murdered

all the gulls in the sky, we apprenticed ourselves
to the light of the sun. We stole hives
from their hot perches for wax. It’s true—
the Gods will give you

everything, but they make you work.
You have to think like a God.
You have to become a God.

How can I make you understand?
My father died with all his heart

hidden in the clouds.
Look—go put a hundred candles in a pot.
Bring me all your pillows and blankets.
I will make you such wings,

you can fly right through their marble halls.
You could drink immortality from the spigot,
bring some back for your son. No,

of course they couldn’t kill you, idiot.
You will be one of them.