I’m a Bad Engineer

I fold paper into

An origami—mimic an airplane.

Hand it to a little girl whose

T-shirt reads fly. She leaps

Outside with that sun-soft

Smile, roots her feet

             Between

The balcony railing, casting

This false work into

The lazy summer air. It is

Motioning to

       Fall—neither crashing

Nor burning.

Sun

          Down—

The afternoon wilting

Under our eyes.

I am a bad

Engineer, I tell her.

Say, things that tarry

With air are lifted

By gods—invisible arms,

Outstretched, over the vast,

Infinity spilling

From their fingers.

She asks, what’s out there?

Say, too many stars,

Dancing naked

In the holy dark,

Neil’s footprint

Still fresh on

Moon’s dust.

Something out there

Looking back at us with

Its bulgy eyes as

Though it’s looking

Through a glass.