skirting your airy paths
of treading the miles
between homes,
following footsteps that
wear away at the clouds-
shaping them like the
chipping of ancient rocks
swollen with time and
stories of travelers
and lovers loving.


The plane bends backward upon itself
rumbling in my stomach, the engine
swims though waters that fall over
rocks, down rolling hills, climbing mountains.
The skyline dotted with misshapen
earth, metal, and crudely painted privacy
falls off the wings of the plane,
reminiscent of the second hand lapping the hour.
The engine trusts in my stomach
like the thought of him- sure and full-
a volcanic rumbling.
The runway bends with my whittled fingers
balancing the strips of blue, we are tossed
into air, pretending to be lovers with the sky-
ignorant of our intrusion, we advance
to flatten ourselves against foreign earth…
An attempt to marry our souls to those of strangers.

05/28/2004

Author's Note: rturned to its original state of being

Posted on 07/02/2004
Copyright © 2026 Gabrielle L Gervais