Sherry S. - Baggage

BAGGAGE
by Sherry S.

Hands other minds might also know
reach out to grab debris
beneath my airplane window.

Cloud scatterings for most
are fallen flakes for me
that trash earth's curving gleam,

the planet's floorboards I must clean,
as I so often have
my own skin-littered paths.

Returning from a stay
with family miles away,
their dark floors fading fast,

I tilt my plastic glass
aswirl with melting chips
of ice and fizzy cool,

a cool I'd like to be,
emerging from a swimming pool
in skin I dream unspotted,

smooth as that playful school
of dolphins being applauded
on every movie screen.

Allotted baggage, plus excess
(vacation's excavation),
is stowed where it belongs

with other petty wrongs,
enclosed, packed tight,
far out of sight below,

contained yet stretched like skin to shed
that layers me in splotchy red
until it lets me go.

Sherry Sheehan