Flying

Stephanie Fisher

 

Sir my eyes are like the scar on your stomach

I’m not sure what happened to you

 

Our irises are the same color too

But mine weren’t always blue

Like the rain

And the sky

And the blood in our veins

 

I’m sure you bled a lot when they tore you up

But healed well with their crisscrossed stitches

Woke within hours

Now there’s nothing left but raised skin

 

High like the time when I flew

 

I was sixteen in the back of a black pick up truck

We hit a pole and

My head cracked open up

I remember flying but not when I hit the ground

 

The next three months I was like Amelia Earhart

In a cloud

Only I wanted down

 

I spent that summer asleep

And I think you were in my dreams

In my coma I wished for your eyes

Mine were dark brown and you were my light

Blue

Sir you can see my scar now too

My eyes are like the scar on your stomach

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790