Peter LaBerge

Crosscheck: I need to know if every part of me / can still land, is still alive. I cannot fly / into the nest of my mother’s arms. This evening, there are too many / men on-board this jet. It is true, nobody knows / how to fly a body this heavy. The body goes / where the body goes. I say, fly & it is best / never to question machinery as it works. Still, I worry / my shoulders dip too hard into the mountains / of this man’s chest. I usually do not know more / than a name and age. Tonight, it is Sky, which feels / appropriate, since what surrounds us happens / to be body and more body. Sky, which fills / suddenly with fire, smoke as the sort of emotion / at the end of the long flight. Truly, I am not the young man / who favors older men. Still: the sky never cared / whom I did or didn’t want to take inside. Even in storm, no crippling obligation / I could see.

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