Falconer and i

When I was a child, I was a free-footed falcon.

Every man in the world was a skyscraper and I perched here.

My dad was a falconer, he wore a leather glove.

My life was free from bees, full of lemonade sun.

It was morning and the world was rising.

I love you but electricity can kill you.

I love you but light pollution drowns the stars.

I love you but birds must leave their nest

to know what it means to come home.

The bees are buzzing loudly now.

I am a falcon becoming a man,

my boots grow heavy on the ground–

So goodbye—

I learned to fly.

Goodbye—

I am burning in flight now.

Goodbye—

our pupils flood open to watch.

I fly, and fly,

and it's brilliant light

and it feels so good,

I fly,

and I know

electricity can kill me, but

I don't mind,

I fly,

and light

becomes itself,

multiplied

and

multiplied,

I fly, and they watch

as I

burst ––

a star dragging fire

across the darkened sky.

And dad, I'm not afraid of moving out anymore.