This morning I flew away from my body.
On the phone I told my mother
I wish I was a bird, silly girl, she said. Remember my visions, apparitions, my baby ****** Mary.
But I fold the laundry and I brush my teeth, I am not a bird.
My lovers they don't know, understand, that I am a bird.
That this afternoon I flew away from my body,
the T.V. still on, over the tree tops, the skyscrapers, my wing span long and beautiful.
But I must do the dishes, set the alarm, nine to five, I cannot be a bird.

You don't know, at night, I fly, out the window I go, the wind caressing my face.

I should leave pebbles, find my way home.