The Twisted Necks of Giraffes
Yesterday,
I saw the rivers,
the veins of Africa
from between, above,
and through the sinews
of clouds and never lying
dreams
in a plane from the early
twentieth century
before the world
had ripped the flesh
off every antelope
and color of the country
Will I ever reach the grace
of the Maasai?
Or am I being too
romantic?
I entwine my neck
with yours, my mismatched,
stretching giraffe
Reach me where our plane
still dances
desperate designs
in early century
clouds
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