The pilot soars, engaged
to velocity.
Troposphere, stratosphere, mesosphere.
How is his plane still ascending?
Ruddy cherubim wink at him,
shooting stars fleck his ankles,
he drinks of the sunlight like
the blood of the orange.
Thermosphere.
Heaven help him.
The aurora says its shimmering,
weightless hello.
The Milky Way looks down,
bats two sets of flirtatious
eyelashes.
Exosphere.
The pilot salutes himself or yonder star systems.
"Have we made it?"
Pluto grumbles,
bitter at losing its planetary privileges.
The pilot straightens his goggles,
hand on the control stick.
"Higher."
YOU ARE READING
Heartpen: Poems of a Cardiac Quill
PoetryAdventure calls to seekers from different eras, different towns, even different worlds. Paths cross. Journeys intertwine. This poetry book highlights mysteries that drive us. It explores loss, endurance, and the struggle to find truth. Featuring gr...
