A new poem for a new chapter

Landing Gear

Jumping from the plane

parachutes intertwined, wrapping
stay-puff bodies together like sardines
they spun a perfect tangled formation,

feet out, faces together
a map of the world below.

What are the chances?

two planes, two divers colliding

a yo-yo suspended on string waiting
for the next move from God or gravity
they stayed weightless.

“I think I’m falling for you,” he said.
That was so like him.

Air pulling cheeks and eyes back
it was the same expressions they had
entering this world

infants dangling upside down after
floating in a primordial pool
just - a rebirth from the sky

leaving,
falling,
entering.

She thought
about her dreams as a child of flying
and how waking
never meant it hadn’t really happened.

Was this happening?

leaving the physics of feet on sidewalk
one step in front of the other,
step on a crack and you break
your mother’s back.

Toes curled like landing gear
lips finding their flight path
to one another - a lock and key
in midair

a butterfly torso, flapping wings
spinning, burrowing
an aerial cocoon
two caterpillars in one chrysalis,

to some
they look like a constellation
or space debris
discarded by the astronauts with a flip
of a switch, billowing
toward a destination that is anyone’s guess

What are the chances?

“Are we falling or flying?” she asked.
Either way, he replied.

by Froggymama