I am crashing through layers of air
as if they were stories of a skyscraper
Wings mangled. Metal feathers
corkscrewing down to stab the ground.
I am gathering momentum. All my limbs
waving, accumulating layers
of trash and scrap and detritus
as I plummet through the ozone,
through the canopy, through the waves
and sediment, all the way to the core
where it all burns off and I am left
a wisp of ash in the shape of a skeleton
continuing to pass through the Earth
and bursting through the ground
on the other side of the world,
laughing
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