Small Plane
Mother, I asked for more consciousness in my dreams
but I ended up in a small plane in the middle of the street,
unable to move it out of the way for the normal
workday traffic. Last year there was a woman
in the middle of the intersection wailing
and laughing in her stopped car. A pop-up violence,
a living diary of some shock only she and God had access to.
But she was doing more than me in my small plane,
where I only waited for someone to come fly it,
touching the buttons, tapping my foot,
the horns outside like a fire alerting us all of fire.
Jenny Gillespie Mason is a poet, musician and editor originally from central Illinois, living in Berkeley, CA with her family. She received her MFA from Warren Wilson College, and her work has been published in ANMLY, Borderlands, Meridian, and The Missouri Review. Besides artmaking, she spends her days caring for her family and pets and volunteering with unhoused women.