By Ishmael von Heidrick-Barnes
FINAL FLIGHT
One day
it happens:
A green flash
and we disappear
We don’t want to look that far
over bending horizon
but we feel it
in suitcases
brought down from attics
The dead weight of emptiness
accompanied by an aroma
of pressurized airline cabins
We see our destination
plainly lit
on the departure kiosk
a number somewhere
between Heathrow
and Lindbergh Field
If the digital age of travel
has taught us anything
it’s not to waste breath
complaining to ticket agents
Nothing
can stop the plane from taxing
down runway
third class may be packed
but once the flaps are down
and brakes released
we look out windows
alone
Might as well buckle seat belts
pre-order
a glass of Metaxa Cognac
Enjoy
Our flight
Ishmael von Heidrick-Barnes was born and raised in San Diego, California. He attended Herbert Hoover High School and went on to study Religion and Theology at the University of San Diego. His book Intimate Geography, published by Ragged Sky Press, won the 2012 San Diego Book Award for Poetry. Ish, as he is known, has also written lyrics for German musicians Andrea Hörkens and Thomas Roderburg (Tender Art).
Latest posts by Ishmael von Heidrick-Barnes (see all)
- Word’s Out | Geo-Poetic Spaces - December 14, 2018
- Political Love Affair | Geo-Poetic Spaces - December 7, 2018
- Deer Tracks | Geo-Poetic Spaces - November 30, 2018
Your poem has got me wondering if we are nearing that point of mass resignation of the inevitable. Could explain why there isn’t a greater outcry against the destruction of our planet. Have the majority already started sipping their congnac? Excellent poem!