Girl
by Lisa Zaran
She said she collects pieces of sky,
cuts holes out of it with silver scissors,
bits of heaven she calls them.
Every day a bevy of birds flies rings
around her fingers, my chorus of wives,
she calls them. Every day she reads poetry
from dusty books she borrows from the library,
sitting in the park, she smiles at passing strangers,
yet can not seem to shake her own sad feelings.
She said that night reminds her of a cool hand
placed gently across her fevered brow, said
she likes to fall asleep beneath the stars,
that their streaks of light make her believe
that she too is going somewhere. Infinity,
she whispers as she closes her eyes,
descending into thin air, where no arms
outstretch to catch her.
In response to a question as to the meaning of “descending into thin air.”
“*Descending* into thin air”is meant to describe her *falling* asleep. We descend into sleep. We lose consciousness. We fall into unconsciousness. When conscious she seeks companionship, animate or inanimate rendered meaningful via her imagination:
pieces of sky, bits of heaven;
bevy of birds, chorus of wives;
smiles at passing strangers;
night is a cool hand on her fevered brow;
night streaks of light make her feel she has a purpose, that she’s going somewhere.
Infinity is her belief in the limitlessness of what she can be stimulated to imagine. She constitutes herself as best she can by her imagination, with what she can imaginatively surround herself.
Come night and sleep and that is lost, her imagination perforce must fail her. So she descends into non-sustaining thin air—in contrast with her collecting pieces of the sky, bits of heaven—where there is no recourse to what her imagination can do for her, no arms outstretched to catch her, in contrast to night reminding her of a cool hand.
If she were to ascend, that would connote something positive for her in losing imaginative consciousness, which would cut against the meaning of the poem.
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