Paris/5th arrondissement

The bottom of the sky
is jagged here
peaked roofs
and sharp gables
reach to abrade it
like upended saw teeth
irregular triangle points of
corroded red and gunmetal gray.
From the old cold
uneven paving stones
of these
crowded crooked
storied streets
I look up
try to imagine sky
but cannot see enough
through narrow gaps
and spikey peaks
to wrap
a complete dream around.
I imagine instead
becoming flotsam
a thin sheet
drifting
translucent blue
airmail paper
catching warm draughts
from tilted pronged chimneys
to rise to
the top of the sky
to look down
on this quarter
this city
the country
the continent
beyond it
as if it were still
the centre of the world.