Poetry Porch: Poetry

 

JetBlue Flight 654
by Kasey Hartung

I used to hate those people
who clapped when the plane
landed—those people who
took out their prayer
books when the wheels left Earth
and the wings touched the sky.

Whenever I take to the sky
I look at the faces of people—
of strangers—I’ll be leaving Earth
with that day. Whispers of planes
being safer than cars drown out the prayers
of the woman next to me. The woman who

prays is the woman who
looks out her window towards the sky
naming clouds after the dead relatives of her prayers.
I hate these people
because they make me scared of planes
and make me believe I’ll never return to Earth.

They say, in the grand scheme of things, life on Earth
is trivial. If our engines lose thrust, who
on Earth could help us? God plays with planes
like toys because without us, His sky
is boring. And without Him, people
have nowhere to send their prayers.

My version of a prayer
will come if we nosedive back towards Earth.
It’ll be short and sweet and people
won’t hear it in my head. See, who
needs to hear it, but the Being in the Sky?
Next time, I’ll buckle my belt tighter on the plane

because I’m losing hope in a plane
that sends its prayers to a pilot who prays
for fine weather and finer stewardesses—ladies of the sky
who dedicate their life to staying above Earth.
Don’t have them ask me where I’m from or who
I am because I’m not one of those people

on planes who likes nervous small talk. So Earth,
I pray you don’t change while I’m gone. But who
knows if I’ll be back from the sky, away from these people.


Copyright © 2017 by Kasey Hartung.