The most powerful Jedi of his generation. Perhaps of any generation. The fastest. The
strongest. An unbeatable pilot. An unstoppable warrior. On the ground, in the air or sea or
space, there is no one even close. He has not just power, not just skill, but dash: that rare,
invaluable combination of boldness and grace.
Say it like an amputee, each letter a prosthetic limb. Say it because sometimes two just aren’t enough; sometimes you need an entire bouquet of hands to carry all the love, say it because the love always slips through your thousand fingers anyway, like sand, like floss, like water, like a song. Say goodness. Say grace. Say thank you for holding my hair. Thank you for turning my sick, sleeping body on its side. You held me when I couldn’t stay upright in the storm of myself. Say sorry for the mess. Say goldenrod. Say goose-feather. Say it with all eight muscles of the tongue, as if their leaving was a soft language that didn’t bite back. Say loving you has been the greatest kindness. Say I’ve carried your salt in my wounds. Cradled your heart in my gullet like a prayer, a sacred thing I was too afraid to want or release; say I release you. I deliver you now into the arms of the one who will love you best. Say beauty. Say bless. Say their name, one perfect time while it still belongs to you. Say it even when they refuse to say yours, your name shattering on the hardwood floor of their rejection, their name in your mouth like glass. Names of blood and names of fire. Names that burn when swallowed. Say it with your last breath. With your mouth of insatiable fury. Hungry as the sea, their name a kind of drowning.
Premise to interlude Wait ‘til all bones protrude You’re convexed, you’re convert There’s a stain on your shirt Semi-sweet, semicide The remorse you can’t hide Now we moult past our skin And make room to begin