Читать книгу Waterbaby - Nikki Wallschlaeger - Страница 14

Minutiae in a bowl,

jury-rigged hand

in need of a drink.

The flight attendant

said, “It’s on me,”

I must’ve looked

like I needed one.

Such a rough climb,

wobbly as the sun

during Leo season.

Come to find out

a brand new plane

is hot to handle.

The first breath,

crucial, coughs.

My favorite path

of looking winds up

when I’m in the air.

There’s no way

to vacuum-seal death

up here I suppose,

even though I’ve never

felt the urge to buy

a traveling pillow.

If something develops,

if our machine defects,

I’ll ask if I can hold

the hand of the woman

who gave me a drink.

Then it’s time to land

like nothing happened,

the captain standing

at the door with his crew.

He’s younger than I am,

a baby-faced white boy.

We don’t know his name,

or where he came from.