The Kite Woman

Arms and legs
Jut out of her body
Like corners of a kite
Preparing to whisk her away
With the faintest whisper of wind.
Her fire orange dress blazes,
Giving purpose to the waning night.
Her hard soled feet pound the earth,
Causing glimmering trails of dust to
Float into the star extinguished sky.
Her billowing skirts caress her
Broken kite frame,
Gathering her fraying hair into
An electric braid.
As the sun prepares to soar overhead
She fades into morning,
For it is only in the alcoves of darkness
That she can fly.