Don't Worry, It's Me (Revision)

our immeasurable potential is a flock
of fat blackbirds, frowning a telephone wire
with the weight of caked feathers, second-hand silk
as a hundred thousand voices stream through
the thick wound cable, sagging and patient,
voices saying i am sick
i love you so much i am vulnerable
perhaps tomorrow buenos dias
look for me i will be there,
sedated hums and wet gasps,
the current hurries through a body of dark veins,
a suspended nervous system
threatening to ground itself with the weight
of each new bird, until the first tail feathers touch
down, detonating the migration out
like a flung pack of cards, spades like rain,
hearts in a low flying cloud