another flight

I.

i miss you, we say. then i climb the plane to somewhere. baby, i can’t touch you with all this elevation.

II.

maybe the tears are hormones — triggered by a thing

partly woman. i’m mostly aching, aching for you.

i want to crawl inside you; make a home in you.

i’d stand out in the sun for you. lick the desert

floor for miles. tell me you need me, too — this bad.

III.