I’m cloud filled

jet rises, you return

as always: a phantom

buoying me up.


I rely on your

insentient presence

it gets emotional

touching strata


remembering us.


This is economy

no stream lined

left turn blasé

white napkin


for your daughter now.


I relinquish hold

as turbulence

bounces: if I

died up here


at least you’d

find pieces

of me



Cloud filled

you slip through

my fingers: I wait

for your face


to haunt me.



Listen here 

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