“Airplane Mode”


By D.F. Parizeau

In the


between hurricanes, expired passports
and paper planes, I’ve spent too
many days contemplating

my retreat;

bridges mean


to those with wings.

The pain of leaving


crimson in my chest.

Must I fall before first flight?
Skin raw from each defeat:

I jump,

I fall,

I fly.

2 thoughts on ““Airplane Mode”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s