Wings

After a bad day I can feel very small.

So sometimes I take walks, picturing wings sprouting

from my shoulder blades.

You’d think these would be

powerful, dense, heavy;

But in my imagination these extensions are actually

Fleshy, flimsy, ragged pieces of shit.

I close my eyes and see myself stepping off the

Edge of the world and I never seem to find out

if I fly or

if I die.