pomes

Poem on a Plane

Between the grids of glitter on a pitch-black slate,
Between the intermittent flickers of yellow, gold, and gray –
Somewhere,
Between and behind,

It feels like a dream.
It feels like a lie.

But I could push myself against the glass
And see every inch of endless blue tarp,
Breathe the palm grass,
Feel that white-hot splinter,

In like a whirlwind and out like a whisper,

I float with thoughts of not being human.
I didn’t make this hell,
But still I walk through it.
If I could bury my body in the sand
And stare up at the clouds all my life,
I would.

But is to do no harm to do no good?

There were days of feeling happy
Before this pitch-black sky,
But it feels like a dream.
It feels like a lie.

-s.f.

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