Woodwork

woodwork

There is a table on the floor.

My table.

Eat, talk, write, read I do on it every day, more and more.

But today when i lied on it?
I saw it gathered a hole with two wings!

In a moment i was out of my door.

I fly with my table at night.

I work I sleep I wash beside it in disgust or delight
I accept things I deny. Yet only when 

I lie on it  

I fly.

The wooden piece has grown old for sure,

The legs are not so light

The base not so tight ...yet only when i lie on it it can fly. 

A night ago with it 
I went to the sky

I flew and went straight into my zone

Found my house standing still with others not alone
                        - Hey here was where I played and there was where I slept
                          All of my past?
                          Time in sheets had kept.

I thought from there

I don’t want but have to go
                       - Take me back, I said, to where I should go…

                         Over and above my home she rolled and swerved and swirled

                         Over and over again on all my zones she flew in space
                         From the hole the winds tried to throw me out
                         From the wings they backed me without a doubt

I sensed and smelt of the days that dropped anew

The salty waters came rushing back overdue,

laugh-dropped from the sea-sky and watched me fly.

She dropped me back onto my place,

Its a flat world around me that sings

with its hole and its wings.