Flying

I used to dream
of flying.
I’d start out swinging in wide circles
that got wider
and higher
and frightening.
Sometimes when I woke up, I could hold that feeling
-suspension-
and believe (dizzy) that I couldn’t feel the bed beneath my skin.
(Only for as long as I could remain perfectly still.
As soon as I’d move a muscle..
…the sheets, the mattress, the covers… there.)
Now I dream of running.
Away.
Not from – just running. Untiring.
Fast.
-er than I ever really will.
Even in my brown, light shoes
with my light-footed, scarred husband
where a train used to carry
coal…or logs. (A more observant me would know which.)
With long even breaths.
When I wake up now, I’m just there.
I feel the sheets – and that light-footed man.
It’s less dramatic.
But more grounded.
I used to dream
of flying.
I’d start out swinging in wide circles
that got wider
and higher
and frightening.
Sometimes when I woke up, I could hold that feeling
-suspension-
and believe (dizzy) that I couldn’t feel the bed beneath my skin.
(Only for as long as I could remain perfectly still.
As soon as I’d move a muscle..
…the sheets, the mattress, the covers… there.)
Now I dream of running.
Away.
Not from – just running. Untiring.
Fast.
-er than I ever really will.
Even in my brown, light shoes
with my light-footed, scarred husband
where a train used to carry
coal…or logs. (A more observant me would know which.)
With long even breaths.
When I wake up now, I’m just there.
I feel the sheets – and that light-footed man.
It’s less dramatic.
But more grounded.
I used to dream
of flying.
I’d start out swinging in wide circles
that got wider
and higher…
and frightening.
Sometimes when I woke up, I could hold that feeling
-suspension-
and believe (dizzy) that I couldn’t feel the bed beneath my skin.
(Only for as long as I could remain perfectly still.
As soon as I’d move a muscle..
…the sheets, the mattress, the covers… there.)
Now I dream of running.
Away.
Not from – just running. Untiring.
Fast.
-er than I ever really will.
Even in my brown, light shoes
with my light-footed, scarred husband
where a train used to carry
coal…or logs. (A more observant me would know which.)
With long even breaths.
When I wake up now, I’m just there.
I feel the sheets – and that light-footed man.
It’s less dramatic.
But more grounded.

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