Dancing on a Plane
It’s too late to read my book.
The movie put you to sleep.
It’s doing the same to me,
but I don’t want to disturb you.
I stare out the window,
but we’re too far from everything
to make out anything more than faint lines
of dark waves in a moonless night.
I close my eyes and imagine
how powerful those waves would seem to us
but how calm they must feel out there on their own,
swaying back and forth and back again
across the whole world
when we hit a slight bump in the air.
Your fingers tighten around mine
while the fingers of my other hand
dance slowly through your hair
for no one to see and only us to feel.
Deron Eckert is a writer and poet who lives in Lexington, Kentucky. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rattle, Strange Horizons, Door is a Jar, Ghost City Review, Maudlin House, The Fourth River, and elsewhere. He can be found on Instagram at deroneckert and Twitter @DeronEckert.