Poem by Suzanne Allen

December 15, 2023

Frequent Flyer

Certain deserts have been overrun by wreckage
and scrap. Fighter planes chase bombers low
across an orange horizon too close to appear
expansive. Over there, a passenger plane
does cartwheels across the suburbs. An old
friend gave me a box of chocolates and some
new pants. I dress as the world ends. I want
to call my parents.

On other days the airport runway is a jungle
littered with fragmented fuselages and stray
cockpits, shells of airport terminals, escalators
still functioning. Wild animals lurk but rarely make
themselves seen. You can feel them there,
but mostly there are tourists,
flights cancelled, baggage in hand, aimless.

About Suzanne Allen

Suzanne Allen’s poems appear widely online and in print. In 2021, she published a pandemic memoir in poems, We Wash Our Hands, and Awkward is forthcoming. “Frequent Flyer” was the working title of the manuscript. Both are available on Amazon. She also has two chapbooks: verisimilitude (corrupt press) and Little Threats (Picture Show Press).

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