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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

c. 2016

Submitted: August 19, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 19, 2018



Northerly bound, I sail as an arrow,
Skillfully shot into the blue. With
Fluid ascent, my lone vessel stalls
Above the sewn earth. I felt nothing.


My caretakers are not the stewardesses
Of Hollywood. Their smiles are dull.
Stiff and sterile, they cart placations
That I consume, eager to arrive.


Back upon Apollo’s bow, I launch–
Fired forth, I twist, unmoored–arching up,
I pierce the heavens, then, trembling, plunge down.
Groundward again, I am bound to the South.


Shaking down my bones, flight echoes in my lungs.
I ache to taste the stratosphere.
I will devour the sky.

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