Even though the captain says

we’re five minutes
ahead of schedule

the sky cannot drop me
soon enough into your arms.

The sun always shines here
above this vapor sea

above our dark flounder
above our never wings.

Upward when we first broke
through I pressed my face

against small pane to feel
light, the same light we greet

with feet on earth, through house
windows, bleary squares catching

and casting our every orange rising,
praying to each other’s warm smile.

Miles closer to the sun, I am
closer and closer to you,

landing somehow in midair
and somehow falling.


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