Flying

// October 12th, 2009 // illustration friday, poetry

FLY

This morning Maria clings to the boughs of the thick-limbed cedar

outside her house. Neighbours on their lawns look up, faces calm,

feet clamped to grass. She envies them: their solidity,

their white appliance weight, their children sand-bagged snug

across their hips. Her feet lift with the breeze. Her face strains

as the wind whips through her nightshirt. One slipper

spirals down to be thrashed by two chocolaty daschunds eager

to prove their worth. The fire truck arrives with ladders and hoses,

orders fly through megaphones as the women organise

a flannel gathering by the firemen. Maria, forgotten, lifts one finger,

then another. Lets her flesh untwine from the bark and floats

above the street, above green cubed yards filled with whirling women

and men moving in formation. She feels the air, fresh on her face, feels

weightlessness, feels herself lifted and carried away.