“Flying a Kite,” Friend, Mar. 1992, 39
Flying a Kite
I guide my ghost-ship
through the sky.
The sea is far below.
I feel the breezes
fill its sails
and show it where to go.
I never flew
a ship before
nor sailed one on the sea,
but with its string
firm in my hand,
my kite-ship flies with me.