Had I my way the sky would feel like sand, and shift in the watery push of wind, clouds like castles in bucket shapes and feet to shift them back.
The weight of such a beach, such a stretch of costal glory would crush us all, if we were not already born beneath it, hardened in the womb like our mothers and ignoring it like our fathers and laughing and flying kites in sand.
Flat on my back beneath the sky I marvel at my strength, not Herculean but human.
I hold up my chest beneath the burden of the sky, I breath
Like every infant
Under the crush
We fly along like no horse powered hunk could ever dream
And never know we spin
And get sick on crawling coasters
But sleep in a blender.
Every day I swallow light and glow pinker still beneath the sky,
Stuck to the ground
pulled cloyingly by forces we name and never understand
Show me photon
Hold it up and know yourself an Atlas to lift a limb under that burden of air
Firm under the firmament.
I am great to be so strong
I am a god to draw breath beneath my birthright
To glow pink in the Kentucky summer sun