Tonight planes elbow
the Newark sky. Clouds part to
slot noses so pearled.
Elizabeth strings
Woodbridge to Amboy. The neck
of New York glitters.
Up here, at twenty
thousand feet, wings thread stress with
torn clouds. Circling.
Rapid rush. The plane
and I form one long leg. Or
is this a man’s part?
Test ground for feeling,
strangers hunt for belongings,
which may have shifted.
Once I called New York
home. I seek out confirming
empire images
To find New Jersey’s
gut. Careful now: Liberty
senses a bold tug.
The skyline has been
my lover for a decade,
tentative, to earth.
