Flight Path

By Chloe Jaques

We all get the news: flight is restricted. 

Airways are told it is simply too much, 

too much to see from the ground anymore, 

to justify. 

Yesterday I was told, 

“You ascribe yourself godly influence, 

just for the purpose of feeling godly guilt.” 

What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, 

here with sliced cantaloupe fresh in the sun? 

I go out with the others, 

and stare daggers at the remaining planes with my neighbors, and Helen turns to me and says, 

“What obligation does the fish have to the ocean?” And I am so afraid that I have to go home. 

I slice all the produce that is left in my kitchen, and without all the noise of the planes overhead, I hear the splendor and suction, 

the noise of the world through my windows and door.