I travel to the heavens…

 

…as I was trying to tell you

the other day.

 

I hold myself in

at the kitchen table

 

press skin cells smooth

and then see a clear bag

 

form around me

open on top

 

so force myself sleeker,

hold in even my chin,

 

and when I feel myself

fish-slick,

 

raise my hands over my head

elbows locked, fingers together,

 

poke them through the opening,

feel my body begin to rise

 

then slip through the bag

and suddenly look

 

down on the table

from the ceiling,

 

then down on the roof

from the clouds,

 

and then down on earth

from the heavens.

 

I’d tell you more

but shouldn’t, really.

 

No angels there flapping

their wings, you know.

 

I have seen dead

mothers and fathers

 

and dogs that bark

destruction.

 

I am telling you

don’t ever try this.

 

Published by

sanberdooboy

I've been writing mostly poetry for many years and have gotten a number of works accepted in publications and anthologies. I'm most interested in communicating with poets for whom craft is a high priority. I enjoy finding and commenting on poetic gems in other people's work. For my own work, I welcome polite comments, whether positive or critical.

6 thoughts on “I travel to the heavens…”

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