Plain of Flight

Tue, 07/02/2013 - 19:16 -- camiko

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Perfect white - clouds rolling like hills under

A sky pale blue like his eyes: sightless, remembering.

Staring through a glass oval, indented deep

Into plastic and steel, hollowed out like bird bones.

Hair falling in a curtain about her sleepy eyes, she

Leans her head just to feel the pressure on her temple.

 

One twisting mass rises like a marble temple,

Piercing sky as if jagged ice had floated just under

His cheekbones.  Drowsy, he would hum, and she,

Blinded by reflecting sun, squints remembering

His piano smile, ivory keys aligned as buried bones,

Dormant far below her feet, in earth just as deep.

 

He is the fulcrum of her mind and it is spinning deep

Into echoes of thoughts resonant through temple

Halls snaking inwards till her rattling bones

Dance as a slack-limbed puppet, flesh burning under

A hand too cold for memory, remembering

The sunlight dappled with the shifting leaves.  She

 

Wonders how steady is the wingtip, she

Muses on the coolness of the ice crystals deep

Within the center of the whiteness, and remembering

The stars caught in his lashes in the rain, knows a temple

To his tribute should be patched from cloud and sky under

The unyielding warmth of a heartbeat caged by bones.

 

Shoving off the grasping fingers of the wind, her bones

Screaming unheard, eyes stinging, watering, she

Leaps into air as trusting as if waiting arms under

Her body will lift her like a crucified angel into deep

Heaven where he stands, ashen lone temple,

And stares bemused, melancholy, delighted, remembering.

 

Her eyes have opened and remembering

Where she is, exhales heavy and long, bones

Sagging into stiffness, entombing like a temple,

Feeling emptiness seep into her drowsy eyes, she

Sees the clouds receding from the sky and deep,

Engraved in vacant sand, an ink-black river coiling under.

 

Again remembering, she exhales, knowing this is she,

Not the bones veiled by memories deep;

Her temple pulsing, knowing what death buries under.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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