With the grace of a train whistle,
he blew through
my station.
There was no schedule.
I never left the platform.
My dreams of flight
drifted on smoke
far, far away.
Windbreak
The force beneath my hair,
behind my neck,
pressing me into places
of wretched beauty
fighting me when I don’t know
where I’m supposed to go
why, oh how, oh when
will the wind let me breathe
without force?
I stand as firmly as time.
Feeling cramped, chilly,
and a little bit small,
moving mindlessly
away from traffic
until peering out the windshield,
I see a bird
soaring despite rain.
I envy a lack of decision
when instinct takes hold
and flight becomes imperative.
Flight-like
It was like being part
of a pair of birds,
one of two,
mated,
matching glide for glide
along cool currents
in a blazing sky.
It was quiet
like a breath
that sounds giant
only in your own ears.
Unseen
Hunting down a tune
through halls not quite dark,
but long and narrow-
like walking into a straw-
anyone could see
I was bared
looking for melodious moonlight
There was no harmony of touch,
only a soft drumming
like maybe my blood
wanting to move
toward freedom
