Jeanne Murray Walker

POETRY: Flight by Jeanne Murray Walker

December 13, 2017

The angel speeding down the runway pulls up her wings flaps, and, wouldn’t you know it, wobbles, then dribbles to a stop. She stands on the windy tarmac, embarrassed, brushing her blond hair from her eyes, trying to remember how to elevate herself, wishing she’d worn jeans instead of the girly skirt that works for flying. It’s gravity’s old malice, showing up in the strangest places, for instance at the corner where the fortune cookie truck forgets how to turn, tipping gracefully, sliding on its side as cookies spill into the summer night. Around the city good luck stalls, turning us into bodies, just protoplasm for a wasp to sting. Even love is a sad mechanical business then, and prayer an accumulation of words I [...]