like we were drowning
in a feeling of captain ej smith helplessness
you sighed my name, saying
maybe the ocean is just another sky
as you pulled wings from my spine
this morning baby chimney swifts
faced a dilemma akin
born to a family of acrobats, they
peered over fascia and felt
fly or fall.
ecstatically, emphatically, they
pumped the earth gone.
so grounded I tried to be
from aster to zinnia, you pulled my number
as if you planted it when sappho roamed
(you, the hurdy to my gurdy)
this dance I've corrected,
cranked and sped
has me stumbling now-
my flight-useless legs and feet
rendered inimical.
I miss a horizon I've never known,
a feeling of ej smith helplessness
see, the sweet swept-back swifts
are born
obliged to rise
