threads and light
the morning sun glints off little lakes scattered like mercury across the plains
silver strands come alive as the sunlight reveals them, echoing the streams on my cheek
why do i always think of you at thirty thousand feet?
does being skyborne lessen the distance between us?
or is it that the balance between gravity and mortality brings me closer to myself?
i have become a collector of threads
some knotted, some spooled, some strewn carelessly across my memory
highway, river, wire, twine, gut, veins
if i stretched out all these ribbons to one long desire
could i reach all the way to you?
i am going home for awhile if you could call it that
home- where the key i carry fits
awhile- longer than a day, shorter than i would like
when i am safely grounded and i drag my baggage to the taxi stand
i am stunned into smiling at the sparkling flecks of light in a coal black sidewalk