Flying Not Allowed

I’ve tried over and over

but the sky never welcomes us.

When I press close to it

its complexion suddenly shifts

tense as a wound

daubed with gentian violet.

Even a poet would lower

the noisy leafings through his heart

since flying’s so forbidden.

Room to turn the body shrinks.

In this air above the western hemisphere

I saw two metal birds aflame, falling,

just like that night

I walked into my dressing mirror,

a splash of shattered light.

Whenever a plane passes over

I admire those

taking their lives as matchsticks.

What desperate floods and beasts

must force them into the sky

Our freedom. boxed in,

can’t withstand one blow.

The mind, let out,

covers a boundless region.