I was given two options
to follow two different armrests, outstretched.
One was a famous twist in ecstasy
Except anything in driver seat.
The other was a befuddled theatrical pedagogy
Whence the aviation was having a heart attack!
I looked inwardly and opted the third one
After all this is a mere gift!
"Runway zero eight!"
You simply recite through the gothic stories
and pray for a painless appendix.
A better idea would be to refer
not "The Holiday Inn" but "Ben-Hur"
God proposed the outlier there, in pain
If not in vain!
8:45 AM
9-4-2024
“What Makes You Flinch”
What makes me flinch?
When someone trips on flat earth,
And frantically looks around
Hoping that no one, no one at all saw
What had just happened
But everyone did.
That makes me flinch.
When I look at my schedule,
And realize that everything
Has been booked for the same day
And that I have to change my plans
And let people down.
That makes me flinch.
When I sit in the corner of the theatre,
Hiding under the hood of my jacket,
Frantically squeezing the armrests
When I know a scare is coming up.
And then I jump.
That makes me flinch.
What makes you flinch?
I close my eyes and don’t look down.
The plane shakes in the storm,
The captain assures us we’re okay.
I want to be back on the ground,
But two more hours left to go.
I close my eyes and don’t look down.
Out the window, people stare at the lightning,
We try not to worry,
The plane shakes in the storm.
People begin to panic as we shake,
I grab the armrests on my chair and close my eyes,
The captain assures us were okay.
Right foot into this little dimple that you can toe in on aggressively so it’s opposing the left hand, then you can, like, zag over across to this flat, down-pulling crimp that’s small but you can bite it.
[From Honnold’s climbing notebook.]
For me, the most transcendental feat –
your smeared soles at Freeblast Slabs,
your shoulder jammed into Offwidth
and cardiac-kick at the Boulder
were: Inspirational; unimaginable.
We sit in theatre chairs white-gripping
our armrests and, too often, eyes closed.
Up on El Cap as much as we’ll e’er be,
We twist our bodies in synchrony.
We’ve seen how immeasurable
the possible; the achievable
of the inconceivable. At last,
an image beyond the past; a hero
of no vanquished enemy,
brawling limitless potentiality.
Following your lead, we reimagine
how we might ascend our vallied lives.
(For Ibrahim Abu Thuraya - Gaza)
For sale: a wheelchair
in good condition.
The seat is black
wide, warm
and clean (blood stains
washed off);
the two push handles: soft and comfy;
they have been held with love
and care;
the armrests rarely have been used;
foortrest and footplate –
still brand new.
The owner used it for the last time
when he left the Shati refugee camp
to join the crowds
who hailed Jerusalem as their own
and hurled stones – their live ammunition –
across barbed wires
that circled Gaza.
The 29-year-old amputee,
jumps off the wheelchair
falls on his knees;
he crawls towards the prison siege
his right hand holding
a Palestinian flag,
his left-hand fingers making a V.
A sniper on the other side
smiles
as he takes aim…
and whizzz…
the bullet finds the stubborn head
and
he
falls
dead!
~ ~ ~ ~
For sale: a very special wheelchair
with a history extraordinaire
lying there
like a question mark above
the Homeland
The price: your blood…
his blood
her blood
or mine…!
French
Beret'd
Director's
Natty perch
Leather-back tripod
Cushioned seat--
Classic hue--
Armrests...
Settled in
The Envelope Please
~ Best supporting cast ever!
Gnawed nails dig into worn plastic armrests
Stinging alcohol burns the skin
A sharp point glints in the fluorescent light
Rough hands grip the shoulder
Restraining it against the comfortless chair
He says to relax,
But the tremors intensify.
Deep breath
Lungs release
Cartilage crunches
Blood flows
Shiny metal ring
Rests against the ear
A new opening in the body
Diverging from natural design.
Apprehensive and panic-stricken
I practice assuming the crash position .
While a “ fasten seatbelt” sign flashes
like a beacon, foretelling our demise,
cool beads of sweat form on my forehead.
A paralyzing anxiety washes over me.
My knuckles are chalk white as
my hands grip the armrests.
I try to swallow but my throat is dry as dust.
I frantically push the bell to summon an attendant.
I need water…..anything!
She appears looking concerned
and I’m impressed how calm she remains
in such a dire situation.
My knees tremble as I once again
examine my seat, ready,
should I need it as a flotation device.
Feeling uncontrollably trapped,
my chest tightens, my lungs scream for oxygen.
Suddenly the plane lurches, the engines roar,
then silence.
Oblivious to those around me,
terror has me tight in her grasp.
A pounding headache
tortures my disconnected thoughts.
A sudden wave of imminent diaster engulfs me.
Assuming the worst,
I close my eyes and pray for a miracle.
In response, comes the ominous announcement,
"Ladies and gentlemen,
we will be taxiing to the runway momentarily,
we apologize for the delay.’’
There I sit so quietly limp and still
Till someone’s body does lie in me and fill
My arms are now a faded blue
And patchy at best
Peeking through are my wore nimble armrests
My recliner action is since been broken
But yet this chair is a favorite house token
So she moved me into a different space
Covered the spots gave me a new face
Now my family fights to sit in me
And just think they’ve been contemplating discarding this old flea
They have made some visits to the furniture store
But every chair they try has them looking at me more
Perhaps they should just hold on to this old gem
And periodically give me new fabric with a hem
Funny thing are these household comforts they keep
They have become so cozy
And in my arms they forget my misgivings and fall asleep
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