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Sport 37: Winter 2009

Baggage

page 60

Baggage

The man on the wing is looking for holes
where rivets should be.

He doesn't lift his gaze
from lines of ellipses, from spotting

what might be omitted.
How can he keep an eye out for me

and not see my face filling
the window seat?

When he climbs down the ladder
I'm grateful for thuds

underneath,
where someone in the belly is stacking

all those theories about ourselves
and what we need to fly.