Love?

-Corwin Jones

I’ve flown before—late-night,

wandering in yellow light, they

showed me an old swing,

strung up between two trees.

Twenty feet from the street,

staring into the Big Dipper,

I’m free again. When confused, I

try to remember my body,

every limb and organ,

my bones, weightless but falling.

What else should it feel like?