I can sense the shape of the wing
that my skeletal frame would require
to sustain flight
Like the memory of a limb after having been severed
I can still feel
I can still itch
I can still clench
I have flown
So many times that
my memory of each
runs together
such that I and I
are in echelon
From the tops of these trees
the city peers back with a lazy eye
and a sprawling lack of focus
A string of lights at the border
is sequenced in series to appear to cascade
first up then down, in so many colors
It is dark and I lose myself
in the surround of the night
Heavy birds weigh down branches, honed in on
the tip of balance just before snapping,
I sneeze and startle them all away
The moment you relax deeply and securely
into the updraft, you’ll begin…
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Alphabet City 
My Lover DHW flies.
What do you mean by DHW flies?
HE GOES AROUND WITH SOME KIND OF LITTLE ENGINE STRAPPED ONTO HIS BACK, COMPLETE WITH PARACHUTE .
He hovers? 🙂 That’s pretty intense. Over water or . . .?
Is that what it’s called? We’re on the coast of the south shore of Nova Scotia, so the ocean inlets are very scenic and I guess he “hovers” above them. Years ago he landed on the main highway (by mistake?) and got a ticket.
Oh Lover rhymes with Hover!
There’s a couplet there, at least. Note that neither rhymes with Rover.
🙂