Cantonese Plane Flying High

Circling and circling

the nose of the jet

Piercing the clouds

like a new ridge

or a birthstone

Urging and urging

the tip of its wings

all askew and

the birds in the

snow

Wait it

shouldn't

snow here

Never snows in 

summertime

Making snow angels

that draw lines from

one memory to the other

On the step

lays her bed

She went to

check her bills

Dreamt that

when she slept

that wind would

carry her to

a place that

never had her porcelain

but still, it had it all

Had her sheets

and her curtains

and the roses

tulips at the ends

In the corners

were her planes

flying high

Her wrists to ropes

But they broke

but they broke

but they broke