We are on the skin of a sphere,
and we are everywhere,
but we cannot jump the chasm
that separates us from other selves
and possibilities.

We build a bridge doused with tears
and run across before it burns up
with our mortal steps.

We stack our worlds on top of worlds,
our clothes press our dimensions
together, weighing our hearts
with the sense of something
just outside our perimeter.

Tempting us, calling us
to put our energies in concert
and tunnel our way through
to something new and familiar—
a second skin, a second self—
send out the canaries first
and follow their song.

Claire Juno, © 2012

…for my father