I don’t think I’ll rise today.
I’m lulled back to dreams
by a sad soft noise
of every person slipping off the side.
Quietly open every window in hopes we’ll soon be airborne.
Help me keep one breath behind the next.
Once in the air we’ll open a door,
leap into the outstretched hand of a giant,
float into the long deep crevasse of his lifeline,
scratched by calluses giants have.
His fingers will entrap us. After that, it’s up to him.