Angi Lewis and Amy Souza

Amy Souza
Inspiration piece

Sky Lines
By Angi Lewis

I sometimes imagine
the birds leaving tracks
in the sky, a network
of crisscrossed lines
marking their flight
through such a vast, blank space.

In the pale November light
in a sky feathered with clouds
you stretched your arms wide
and flew
and I am left wondering
where you have gotten to.

It’s the age old question-
what happens when we die?

Maybe I’m going at this all wrong
trying to imagine you in a form
you’re no longer in.

My friend says her dad, long gone
speaks to her in pennies left behind
(her mother in dimes).

I see you,
Dad, in birds
hawks on fence posts
eagles circling.

Which sky lines are yours?

Behind my ribs
there is a nest
of bones, of flesh
there your love rests.


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