birds and paper planes

for emily

----

there are faces i see that i truly admire.
the mouth, the eyes,
but what is behind them?
i'm not sure i know what's behind my own.
oh, i feel as though i'm soaring-
i'm riding the wind.
but as a bird
or a paper plane?
birds can die.
they eat worms,
build nests- they live outdoors;
some shriek more than sing.
paper planes can't die,
which means
they can't
live.

birds and paper planes.
which one sees the faces that i truly admire?
the mouth, the eyes?
which one sees behind them?
now i see behind my own
and no longer see flight,
but only a flimsy sheet of directionless chance-
living, but refusing life.

i have loved your face,
but i have not loved you.

paper planes cannot love.
birds might feel pity.
paper planes cannot live.
birds might feel pity.

birds might feel.

i have seen my face-
i sometimes like it.
i do not pretend to wear or read it well,
but
my mouth, my eyes
are not yours for the taking.

now
i soar.