indigo prayer

she would sing a song inside, deep in
laughing sonance, she would sing it soft.
the song would spring in among the stars,
so high, so far, the celestial loft.
a black and white, so severely bright.
her voice indigo, satin, to slit,
her song slithering, splitting the night.

and she would sing a song outside, cry.
singing would seep, spill out, shrill and thin,
scraping the ground, filling in the cracks,
stained indigo wisps where it has been.
paper crumbs would spit up, out of there,
sour and stale, her song would dry up,
evaporate in corrosive air.