Via the pole, I look down to the angled view from the wing,
and wonder I let myself in for this adventure of words.
Once the action took over I was shepherded into the plane.
Here I am in a prison cabin bound for Chicago.
Comfort-crushed at the airport, collectors at the gates,
I parade into the unknown on a passenger walkway,
still reeling from the photographic panorama of the skies,
descended down beside skyscrapers grouped like circles
at Stonehenge or Callanish against the background of water.
This is the religion of the city, these structures herd
artists and workers from all origins, to places they may eat,
dance in or marvel at, others they will avoid, among
and through the life-giving stones, asking them for words
and lines of songs. I bring mine in propitiation.
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Comments about this poem (Scotland-Chicago E-flight by Sally Evans )
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