My Last Plane Ride
The city lights under my feet
are stars tucked beneath the clouds, and
I hurtle through the center of the galaxy
between shaky wings.
The wind is singing to the windows
with a sleepy, cracking voice
while cabin lights try to
hide the darkness and the sparkling points of
light outside from nervous eyes and
steady hands. The flight relies on
mystery and fairy dust, shimmering
between dials and around the exterior.
The stars are above and below me
for three hours and I only
wake up when the plane's wheels
touch the ground.