Ascension

My ears pop upon ascension.

I zone out.

We could halt the plane

and hover,

vibrating above the brackish.

The sparkling sheen of

bay water

curled into the hooked coast

A lover’s finger wrapped.

I become a flamingo,

one long leg extended 

downward.Planted. 

Sunset colored.

Weird.

I imagine my brain

as two organs.

A separate creative lobe

soft like liver

and leaking blood.

If I cup my hand to my ear

and make suction,

it might come out throbbing,

dripping,

and heavy on my palm.

Coating my fingers

and spelling word in cursive

down my arms.

Leaving prints on

my clear plastic cup

of ginger ale,

and staining

the squeaky seats.