A SLICE OF TIME




At thirty thousand feet I no longer had ears.
Infected, nothing really mattered,
so I closed my eyes.

They were piled high on my lap.
An accordion of tissues.
A safety net.

Drifting,
almost a doze  
but not quite, I found a 
space, a beautiful nowhere space.

Wrapped.
In what?
A golden womb, a warm yellow veil 
for minutes,
in a beautiful nowhere place.

No longer found, no longer felt.
To think of again but gone.
No longer found, no longer felt.
It's gone, long gone.

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