31,000 Feet

I level off at 30,000
looking to avoid turbulence,
to find a gentle way forward.

I know what you’ll say
that I ducked my head again,
failed to reach the expected altitude—

sought smooth travel
over the tumble
and shake of you.

Maybe I have.
Maybe baby
your quaking body

has slid me off
my foundation, left me tremoring.
My stomach needs a rest.

You’ll accuse my love of limits
blame my fear of heights.
But I will look ahead, not up

keep my hands in the pouch of my lap
folded like the air sickness bag
secure in my seatback pocket.

Published by asaur