Tell no one where you’ve buried the map of your feet.
Maintain your invisible stealth.
On streets where people move in pairs,
keep your failed attempts off secret runways
in the hush-hush pockets of your raincoat.
There are unexplored atmospheres inside the Pectoralis minor grooves
(descended from pterodactyls)
where aeronautics remain dormant.
If no one sees you walk
they can’t prove you’re on the ground.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 14, Issue 1.
Cory McClellan was born in Casa Grande “The Big House,” Arizona (but managed to escape). He received his MFA from the University of Massachusetts-Amherst. His poetry has appeared in Mississippi Review, Redactions, The Café Review, and Xavier Review. He is currently a Kentuckian with his wife Natalia and two cats: Ushka and Boober.
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