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New Voyage
We purchase tickets, weigh the baggage
assemble in the waiting room
and eye our fellow passengers.
We are impatient of farewells.
Smoke, pace, pose
and listen for our call to journeys.
A bored voice announces distant places
and herds us to departure.
Young men earthheld check tickets,
lead a peering file of travelers
into the snow flurries of a winter night
halting before a glistening bird of myth.
Mumbles start: Why are we waiting here?
Why don't we go aboard?. . . Unanswered.
We wait until we see an engine change.
Murmurs of apprehension: take another flight?
But blue-caped stewardesses beckoning confidence
greet us at the top of rolling stairs.
Fumbling entrance to the plane
a window seat unobstructed by the wing,
settling, seat-belting, dousing cigarettes,
the muffled roar of fiery engines
the first rattles of motion
gradual acceleration down shadow field
lecture of a stewardess on life-jacket
first quivers of aloft,
sudden almost unfelt surge
and we are the ancients' dream of flight.
The captain tells us of our speed and height.
We are given chocolate, coffee, tea,
we look out the window for the cloud-hidden sea.
The restless visit to the lavatory
past tiny kitchen and stewardesses' nook
insecure fumbles on aircraft toilet,
fantasy of sky-trails of excretion
and lurching back to seat.
The slow hours of thought and window
sleep sounds of passengers
parting of clouds with endless ocean far below.
Then the calm is shattered: This is the captain.
We are approaching turbulence, fasten your seat belts.
Do not be alarmed.
The stewardesses soothe the faces of alarm,
fastening buckles, calming, smiling.
Captive of sky-currents, the tired bird
bucks and leaps to angry whine of metal stress.
A voice cries an unforgotten prayer,
people grope for paper bags, scream,
a woman faints, one man tells his neighbor
of another flight that was really rough.
The vengeful air subsides. We are calm.
We see bright specks of nearer stars, but know
we've been reminded of our briefness
and frail tenure in the sky.
The captain tells us we will soon arrive.
We are given chocolate, coffee, tea,
we look at the sparkling, dark sea.
We stare the distance for a city of delights,
we see the glitter of ten thousand flickering lights,
bidding welcome to strangers.
The travelers cheer the sight of land
the hard-won triumph from the elements
another burial of fear.
We circle lower to the scolding earth
pulling another errant child home,
land, roll down the field and stop.
The passengers form urgent clots
impatient to escape the doors.
The stewardesses smile farewell
thinking of their boyfriends' hands
while we leave the plane of voyage,
pause in the heat of a tropic land,
think for a moment of the span of ocean,
crossed so swift, denied to envious ages past,
then rush to customs, intent on discovery.
Gary Beck's poetry has appeared in dozens of literary magazines. His chapbook 'The Conquest of Somalia' is forthcoming from Cervena Barva Press. His recent fiction has been published in numerous literary magazines. His plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes, and Sophocles have been produced Off-Broadway. (April 2008).
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