2014 February

Flight

2014-W06-2

Is your skin porous
Sometimes I must trace its lines to be sure
Find again the telltale blemishes
The assurance of your humanity

In dreams I hover
Fourteen inches above the ground
Press forward and let the earth become a rushing blur

Can you see me then
Shifting my weight between worlds
Breaking and shattering into a thousand pieces
Hiding beneath the support of all things