The Flight

 
 
 The Flight
  

 
 Through the gap between 
 coffee and breakfast
 slipped
 a small raw pain.
  

 There was enough time, in the free fall,
 for a walk across a wasteland behind a glass pane
 under the sky unlit and white;
 for a book or two (some quite voluminous);
 for many wise advices and a self-harm
 just to probe.
  

 In the free fall, it
 shot through several palms,
 burnt through more than one bed sheet,
 tore through various safety nets,
 the small raw pain
 uncatchable
 unstoppable
 goldwinged. 


 (from “Somnaglyphs”)