Not An Air Sign I want to feel light Like Anemoi’s feet on shoulders In the neighbor’s swimming pool Or the sated smile of Plutus As he unbuttons his oxford shirt. Find me airborne as a piece of lint Drifting outside domestic dribble - Like Andromeda out for dry-cleaning To never dirty the doorstep again. I don’t know how to be free Within this context, Would I earn respect Without this desk Against my cheek Against free time? Forget legacy, What you mean is A friend at a funeral saying you made her feel lighter? I was always more fun in the open air. I’m probably more valuable in a meadow. But to swear myself to Elysium Feels like its own form of condemnation. I want to build a temple to myself That’s a temple to everyone human. I pick up a brick And feel the wind That makes me wonder If I’ve gotten it all wrong And I should be the air The temple tries to reach.
Sam Ligeti (She/Her) has always known that she’s a writer, but is only just starting to believe it. Connect with her on Instagram: @samligeti, or at www.samligeti.com.