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4. LEARNING TO FLY
Heavy with gravity
I lay down in a meadow.
Looking downhill I watched
The wind comb the tall grasses
From left to right to left.
Wishing for wings I stood up and
After flapping elbows as do chicks
Before leaving the nest
Ran out of breath and
Lay down again.
In whimsical exuberance
I levitated inches off the ground and
Scooped up by the wind tumbled
Into a cavernous barn fit to practice
Levitation in earnest.
It was easy to rise off the floor
But no matter how hard I tried
I could not flip over—
Levitate nose down.
Exploring the ceiling face up
I navigated cracks in plaster like
Rivers of a continent
Ridges like mountain ranges
Chipped paint like lunar craters.
Commotion below—
Voices setting-up tables dishes rattling—
Froze me in mid-motion at the ceiling.
"Look, a body stuck up there!"
Someone shouted and found out
I flipped over at once.
Riding a wave of applause face down
Head propped on an elbow
Purring like a kitten
In the hilarity of the hour
I descended—
Picked up a rib-roast on a platter
Lifted it to the ceiling and
Without spilling a drop of gravy
Put it back on the table.
Having mastered levitation
I walked out of the barn.
*
Abandoning myself to the wind
I tumbled for days and after
Crossing a continental divide
Came to rest against a wall
In dire need of repair.
The tall and narrow interior
Was packed with particles of light
Dense shimmer ideal for
Practicing flight face down.
In flight
The body limp as wet cloth
Felt like fish in water—
In this new order of things
Every time I rounded a corner
The loop unbroken
Fingered the feeling of freedom
Every shift in thermal drift
Pitched excitement
Every minuscule imbalance
Adjusted itself readily
Every measure of fulfillment
Sank to depths uncharted.
On the walls—
A corner of a smile here
A fingertip pointing there
A broken brush-stroke leaping
From edge to edge of chipped plaster—
The eye filling in the missing parts
Restored the frescoes
To their original splendor—
Tiers of ancient people
Offering fruits of their labors
Elders in festive garb enacting
The meaning of life.
Up close
Every brushstroke every image
Every gesture made sense. But
As soon as my feet touched ground
All meaning was lost.
I didn't mind the loss—
The findings
Illumined scene by scene
Were now etched
On the other side of memory.
When the painted ceiling came to life
And clouds resumed their regal voyage
I flew up and out
Into the blue.
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