Today's poem is by Greg Wrenn
I surrendered my butane lighter to you at the gate
but not my pigeon, not my raisinet heart in four pieces.
Explosives lined my lung, you
defused them. You tore my ticket.
Now you're miming how to fasten
a seat belt, but Igiraffe-scruffy, dehydrated,
love-starved-am already strapped in,
tray table up. Sputter,
growl, groan and fire, fire, we're flying on a globe
of cloud above the dying, lit-up
city, into wind shear, geese, BB-sized hail
my briefing card says our exits
have inflatable slides, the cushions
float. You and I fly and rattle.
Copyright © 2013 Greg Wrenn All rights reserved
The University of Wisconsin Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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