Winter 1991 • Vol. XIII No. 1 Poetry |

Sky

The air is way lovelier than it has a right to be. Everything in a spin of bloom, everything high and handsome. Exactly because it's so unlikely, there's sadness smack in the middle of all this possibility. Ruin and flames. Say you love someone with all your heart, a man or womanwho also loves you, then doesn't. You feel infinitely dropped. Or worse, someone offers youmore love than you can match. Scalp me instead, why don't you? Stretch me on a rack. A paper airplane comes from nowhereto hit a spot near the heart. I watch my love sleeping, a body curved away, but touching mine. I don't know what to think. Tomorrow I'll write a note: Last nightI thought of waking you. Nerve goes. I'm trying to trust my memory that at eighteen, first night in the city, it was possiblewithout thinking twiceto look down from the topof a skyscraper while the wind looped around me.

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A Language

By Angela Ball

The air is way lovelier than it has a right to be. Everything in a spin of bloom, everything high and handsome. Exactly because it's so unlikely, there's sadness smack […]

Text

By Angela Ball

The air is way lovelier than it has a right to be. Everything in a spin of bloom, everything high and handsome. Exactly because it's so unlikely, there's sadness smack […]

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