By Paloma
Date: 21 September 1999

Earning My WIngs

I thought I knew how to fly---
was cheeky about the loop the loops
and curliques I would toss,
but just a few days with you love
and I find I was barely gliding.

I was  proud, fancying myself a hawk,
sleek, fast, and oh so deadly---
and then you called me "Dove."
and I found myself grounded.

Why didn't you just play by the rules,
which said my heart was off limits,
unimportant---extra parts to be discarded,
or better still---ignored?

Why did you have to zero in like that,
catching me off guard, breathless,
and beating my wings for dear life
once I sensed what was coming?

And now I am caught---ensnared, ensorceled
waiting for one look to free me,
waiting for one touch to make it real---
or one hurt to make it ashes.

You want me to fly---
that's why you have wings you say---
but why is it that all that you do
each caress of words,
makes me long to be no where else
but in your hands?