George Menezes

Against the nose
Of your navel
And the flat
Cockpit of your belly
Your pelvic bones
Stick out like a joy-stick
Of a single-seater
I flew long years ago.

Today, once again,
I am back on the
Runway
My first ever solo flight
The palms wet
The fever trickling
Down my thighs
Prematurely.

The engines throb
Like breasts
Touched
By a gentle hand.
I am cleared to take-off.

Have you ever
Been alone,
Held by the clouds
Touching the face of God
With nothing between you
But the instrument
Of your climbing?

Let me take you there
Caressing your horse-power.
Closer to the sun,
Till the wings begin
To melt upon us
As did those
of Icarus,

If I return
To get my pilot’s wings
Our return must be a fusion.
One cannot come
Without the other.