the way your house smells
like earth & airplane parts
my mother tells me you loved these things
more than you loved her
when I was 5 you took me flying
was it my birthday?
your plane was too small for me
& my sister too. I flew first with you
your wooden propeller spinning
something grown in your basement
where your garden preserves & tools lived
do you remember? I don’t think you do
the beans you grew that year stretched into
the sky (where you’re going now)
I shucked them in a big mixing bowl caked
in dirt (where you’re going now)
I remember that day flying
my mother & sister were
two beans on the earth beneath us
but we were too far up to see what a long distance
stood between us
you flew us high
looking up & down I thought
I might fall into the heavens or
into the earth, I closed my eyes
now one flight ends
another begins
& my eyes are open
Smoky Quartz 