Flight

I felt my feathers stretching
quill to tip (a melody inking
my skin with blotted notes of
varying colors and sizes), a
wingspan ever-growing from
between my shoulder blades
as our car took flight and soared
over a country road, with moon above
and tiny flecks of human life below.

I had never seen you
look at me
that way before

but you were lovely by starlight
with smoke meandering through
your teeth and lips, and a
light between your fingers as
they flitted from breath to breath
along the torrent breeze outside
our windows. You seemed, to me,
as weightless as the harmonies kissing
and swimming inside my ears.

I had never seen you
look at me
that way before

and I loved you then
as though it had been the first time
when, in truth, I had seen
the glow around you
a thousand times already.