*

Slowly you have forgotten how

and after each rain reach out

as if this folding ladder

once skimmed the rooftops

was taught to trust the sky

though rung by rung

you no longer lead the dead

to the dead trapped above you

and what passes for rescue

never leaves the ground

or backs away, shaky, not sure

what headwinds do or don’t

—you have forgotten how to fly

want to be lifted, lifted again

as seasons and afterward

and hand over hand return

with the blue-grey flight path

covered with dirt and later.