Enjoy Your Flight Poem by Cristina Musat

They’re like webs, you know.
Massive webs of light –
pulsating, vibrating electrically;
Short-circuiting my vision, entrapped, enchanted,
defamiliarizing the structure of a city into webs,
into webs of silent energy.

Like patches of lava, only still.
Enclosed –
fit them between your thumb and index finger –
almost see your red, illuminated flesh
if pointing at.
Almost hear the ZZZD, ZZZD, ZZZD
Is that my ear?
Where’s that noise?

And after darkness hits, some time after,
there’s a point of sudden, sharply delimitated
Whiteness;
And then I think a little
“Is it cement? No, snow.
Do blow the blizzards of my years over the land that I shall soon (now) reach! ”
Then I feel at home.

When we no longer fly –
well, then we hit the ground,
and my sight will zoom and
snow will seem like mud.

And I will remember the hallo of the city
when time passed faster for me than for those on ground:
How the reflected milky snow grew within the smog;
It seemed to me
sacredly wrong.
A layer of stratified atmosphere –
over the earlier and above seen magma-like bottom on which we walk –
encompassing our space -
and then our time for sure.

It is this stratum which I now see.
For it is the limit of our visible, ha ha -
after which only blueish nothingness sparks
from shape to shape.
Beyond this layer, everything belongs to
unknown
expanding
what.

Now I have hit the ground
And we have almost stopped.
Up there, I think,
the sun-kissed side of the world looked
oh-so-very
close.