Styrofoam Plane

Daddy throws the plane high

into the sky

and into a tree—those things always break.
Isn’t that what they’re made to do?

       one

use and they’re broken;
Then you move on, leaving the old in the dirt where it fell.

One time was all it took.
“My momma didn’t raise no dummies,” as she says.
She wouldn’t break like the others.

She, the

               day

He, the night. With each turn,

I
burrowed
deeper,
trying
to
find
just
one
place.

One
       Place to live
One
       Place to sleep
One
       Peaceful night

Sometimes one is better than two.

The burrow
has been
made a
little wider;
I have
found my
own place.

Although he broke my Wings,



                                                                  I will fly.