Winded on a Trampoline
I clutch at clouds,
burn my brow on sunbeams,
lick blue moons with a rainbow-scythe.
But as day caves away
a wind whips through my stomach
and I’m dumped in its wake.
Magpies brush low over cut grass.
Thrumming cicadas numb the wet sandstone.
A pair of sneakers over powerlines.
Purple and gold in the clouds above.
Some stars beginning to stir.
(published in Visible Ink, 2011)