Akanksha Sinha

there’s something about airplanes
that i can’t put my finger on.

as i sit in the cramped economy seat
with just enough leg space to curl my toes
and just enough cold air to freeze my ears off,
my mind takes flight on its own,
climbing and falling
to altitudes of its own sky.

sometimes i look out
at the tiny squares of land that
patch together like my favorite quilt
and wrap around the earth as though
it were a baby.
if i stare long enough,
i can see it rise and fall
with each of its breaths.

sometimes i look out
at the earth that lays below me
and i imagine what it would feel like
to fall from this height.
i imagine how my back would snap
and fold like
the little origami swans
you used to make.
i imagine floating out
to that curved end of the wing
and folding it back
making something beautiful
out of something plain—
it’s what you did with me.