And I feel it sometimes, the mad urge
to launch into the sky with
all of humanity in my arms.
What was in their heart, I wonder –
in that moment when
wood and canvas came together
and man’s wings were born?
Somewhere my skin tingles
with recognition, knows what it’s like
to be closer to the sun
than anyone before.
Passed down in my lineage
is the thirst for air, a love of birds.
I watch doves with a notepad on my lap
and draw up blueprints.
I want to invent flight in my backyard.
The best I can do these days is
tear a poem into bits and watch
the wind carry away the pieces.
They fly repulsed from me.
I’ve never even been on an airplane.