by LAURIE KEIM
Deep in sleep at the borderline
between the inner world
and the sightless sounds
issuing in from the night-
world of the real, I translate
ambient aural clues
into a desperate desire
to be at one with you.
Flap of flying foxes
like a wet towel slapped
against the breeze.
Next a screech of brakes,
I urgently anticipate
as a momentous shattering
of glass and tearing metal.
I want the uncut version of us.
I must have touched your thigh
and felt the cool resolve
and relief, you bring to everything
your polished touch implies.
For I was nineteen once again
and only needed to leap
into the air, to fly: ecstatic
result, being on par with you.
Perhaps before dawn
I could hear on the runway
the accelerating leap of faith;
you and I against the rushing air,
deciding, moreover, afresh
to reach the borderlands, anew.