We mocked the mighty, once,
before we sailed our own birds out to reach
them.
We were a people with minds
never at ease,
and the north wind was always blowing us
forward.

All these calendars and never enough
seasons; all these clocks and
never the proper timing.
We spent our hours gaping at the sun,
our eyes black holes, secretive and
closed.
We were orbited by loneliness.

Then we papered over the walls of our own histories like
leaves out of season, and we
started flying.

These are the new trees, these ads for our happiness.
This is our new canopy, and the rustling bombardment we
live through now.
Some people tell it like a horror story,
but I prefer
the love angle:
a tale about our meet cute with the sky.
–
Amber Sparks’s short story collection, MAY WE SHED THESE HUMAN BODIES, was published in 2011 by Curbside Splendor.