the swingset

hands clenched on rusty chains

that creak to the gentle rythmn

of my attempts at reaching heaven.

the wind pushes back my hair

only to pull it with each fall,

as indecisive as my own flight

up and out of all of this.

and i know if i were to drop my feet

hitting sand they'd slow it down

and bring back the steady ground

that used to lie beneath my feet.

but then all this night would be

is one more failed attempt

at reaching heaven.