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32,000 Feet Over the Pacific
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At this height
The clouds pretend to be islands.
The captain promises
85 degrees and clear skies.
The man beside me
Plays an outer space game
On his cell, manipulating buttons.
He is busy saving the universe.
We are in the home stretch, a half-hour
‘Til touch down.
Stewardesses powwow in the galley
Beside the toilets—
They joke and laugh like family.
I wonder what my father looks like
In his hospital bed.
“115 pounds,” my mother whispered.
He is as light as a ghost.
When he is a ghost,
When his own jagged teeth
Cut his spirit free,
He will float like a wild balloon
Beyond Mars
And distant planets
Into the unforgiving stars.
copyright 2007
Kirby
Wright |
