Petra Kuppers
GRAVITY GLISSADE
Together under this purple sky, oh turquoise cover,
soft mattress, pillow queen, I lounge to fit my bones
so they hover, for minutes at a time, in open breath,
recover millimeters of pain-free zones with peace.
What gravities would allow this cushion to pearl toward
stability, freewheeling, all accretions pre-sanded,
to roll a craft of glide, smooth, sail, free glissade
in a world of pavement edges, me stranded at stairs.
I look to different attracting forces, besting gravity:
those different skies, color askew and newly wrung
out of an audacity of imagination, to launch myself
to lung challenge, wider breath, flung full force
into lands fit for broken crater carcasses, for soft
landings, a waft that carries me from valley to the sea.