Flying as Rebirth

Sound is swallowed by the wet gurgling throat of the infant who inhales the vacuum

Inside the cabin through the gates of baby teeth. My ears feel the pressure drop. The

Oxygen masks drop down like a galaxy of crib aquarium ornaments. The pilot crackles 

Over the intercom. The air stewardess translates. I fall asleep watching the safety video.

Brace brace brace. My neck rights itself, feels how sore it is having propped up the

Weight of my dreams, sprained from the whiplash of nodding off to the sound of the engine

Hum over white clouds. Eyes bleary — they might not be white clouds at all, but the soft

Cotton of bed fibres that smells like home. Something dry wetted the spongey insides

Of my mouth, blotted by the dab of fat tongue or the sharp taste of tin-wrapped food

That burns the mouth like a lie. Chicken or beef. Chicken. Probably. The cabin contracts,

Warps, elastic as an inflatable slide, supple, cheeks. The worst feelings reach out through

The delirium. Worst memories that crinkle my brow involuntarily. Paper cup. The stewardess

Comes to collect trash. Tears maybe. And the seat takes me into its crevices like food crumbs.

Difficult to reconcile, difficult to pick up the pieces of nasty comments, cruel lowest of lows,

Agony. The pilot spits me back out with an announcement of descent. Prepare prepare.

I struggle to stay distinct from the patterns on the seat. The dryness of sight is punishment

For seeing too much of the world. The air shrivels my scalp, sours my breath, reminds me 

That plaque between teeth is as savoury as food scraps. The wings finally scrape green, 

Completes the parabola, jerks the crate of passengers awake. I stand, and feel my legs

Quiver like arrows from the strain against the effort of verticality. I grab a fistful of trash

That was forgotten in the back pocket and crush the plastics of my past self. Stronger, 

Fresher, feeling raw and stripped to the bone, I emerge from the smiles and air-tight 

Goodbyes into the blister of outside air and the long tunnel into the world, 

Moist as a baby and bright 

With the mania of life.