Tower Travels

1
If the gathering geese
tell me anything, it is flight.
Perhaps I can hold the world
in the palm of my iPhone,
but pixels are not reality.
Take that, Zuckerberg.

2
Her smile was like the sun
on summer grass, withering
where it shone most bright,
turning what had been green
and fragrant brittle and sickly
yellow. I had to get away.

3
There is nothing
like the glitter of ice
in the eye of a woman
who has decided to disapprove.
It is a blizzard.

4
But no one, man or woman, can hold back spring,
however long we scare off Father Christmas.
No glare will keep the flowers from opening,
no arched brow will stop up the rivers,
and, my dear, your frustration
will only melt the snow, swell
the streams, and let me float my raft away.

5
But rafts float finitely,
and all flights must land.
My new, improved, waxless wings
take me nearly to the sun
but the sun only blinds me,
the light of life too bright,
the projection of growth
too much for my skin to handle.

6
Earthbound again,
I find myself drawn
back to the cave,
the cool streams
and chilling breeze
making me wonder
if I ever left.

7
Back to Ground Zero, then.
To the cold of the womb
rejected, to the narrow rock straits
staring me down as I huddle
beneath outcrops, the towers
throwing twin shadows across
my eyes, my lies, my soul.