A PHOTOGRAPH: THE FLYING BOY

On Prainha Beach, in Rio
Years ago, among sand people
                And sun gods,

Papa flings me with mighty arms
                Into sky.

A new vista of him, of world:
Open arms, nearly nude, he waits
Underneath my flapping outstretched
                Wings,

Sings “smile son or you’ll bite
Your tongue.”

I feel all wind, and all of him
Will my body to suspend.

1993