in flight | |
4. an SR-71 at 82,000 feet in flight, where high above the earth I touch the evening air against my wings and if I'm fast enough I'll chase the fragile sunset's purple glow forever through a slowly fading sky until I tire. |
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3. a 757 at 38,000 feet in flight,, the first class curtain has been safely drawn with six seats and an aisle her company.. the woman to her left will snore nothing that's so important in her ear the dinner pretzels have been served she thinks now, smiling: we won't need much food here, wedged and shackled in our seats not unlike galley slaves of old (at least we do not have to row this plane). And to her right the rotund man whose weight has caused the wing to dip, descends a landslide stomach on the armrest she would surely
like to use.. in flight, where now the cabinlights are low and outside it's pitchdark, she's safe in this coccoon at mach point eight, according to the magazine; she'll pray this plane is safe to fly and wonders whose these lights are down below the captain hadn't said a word about the places they've been over now for really quite a while (they're busy with the plane she'd guess), and wonders what the timezone is we're in and if we'll land on time, and if there's still a pillow left inside bin seventeen. |
2. at 40 feet in flight, the rushing air beneath the pale owl's outstretched wings will make no sound as talons carve their whispered gash through nightime sky, her dark eyes pierce illusions of those hiding. |
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1. an airport in flight, where she's been running forty days and forty nights from her own tears and she will pour a cup from her own sorrows' heart to any stranger in this place who would come near.
in flight, where at an airport in a city she has never been she'll wait for a connecting flight and revel in the strangers all around; she's drenched in people she has never met that, when her plane leaves, she will never see again. a few more drinks along she'll think she knows that she will miss them all. |
© Jon Bohrn (1998) |