Suspended

Between Seattle and Toronto

the airplane window

fails

to show me

the space between.

 

Traveling mercies –

the innkeeper with room,

the roadside attractor,

the roses –

call me away from myself

 

One perfect moment of peace,

neither here nor there

but in the meantime,

the mean time,

whose value comes from averages.

 

I try to sum my life

with variable delights,

summaries and maximums

that protect me

from the moments themselves.

 

The sheer mass

scares me –

the weight of moments

pulling me

into reality.

 

Gravity:

a thousand thousand

pieces of my soul

calculated

in moments.

 

But wrapt in aluminum

and engineering

how can I know

what passes beneath –

what passes within?

 

It’s ironic

that the plane

keeps me

on the surface

of things.

 

[24 July 2014]