ABOVE Poem by Jane Gibian

From the skyscraper, looking down
on the backs of birds: we began
smelling the decline of winter
around then; in the vague flowery

perfume of no particular blossom
comes a prickling in the limbs
as if we were migratory animals,
the pull of an unwritten calendar

seizing the body, and you ached
to start the long journey anti-
clockwise around the globe,
the destination undecided.

We are above the birds circling
high over the city, light bouncing
off a plane's innocent pale belly,
invincible at this height.