Sparrow in the dark & Flight Attending
Sparrow in the dark
The ice still thick on the pavers in the pre-dawn glow
luminescent raindrops tip the branches in the late month
the tree lights the city left up
Second sided face of Janus’ coin
is chill wind blowing through my tights
My soul the little bird pecking delicately at the train stop
under a fluorescent light, softened by the coming sun.
Flight Attending
I.
You gotta get right with God, my mother says
that sometimes God is a cup of coffee.
Maybe she means the peace folks find under steeples.
Deity doesn’t mean much to me at 38,000 feet.
Sometimes it’s a pasta construct
when everything is absurd,
or it’s a disapproving father
all strong hands and voice and plaid shirt
with the sleeves rolled up.
Maybe a god sent me these kittens,
mewing helplessly on this flight.
They have no concept of me,
I am uncleaved and unobserved
— heathen servant to the metal birds.
II.
The desperation of being alone
after only one week
draws my stare to men’s sternums,
seeking the hollow place in their arms,
longing to be allowed in.
Homeless, I hop across the map
dotted lines ellipsing,
city to city.
The plane engine roar
and surge and that tingling feeling
each time we take to the sky
— blue, vast, endless,
devoid of deity.
Erika Gill lives, writes and builds community in Denver, CO. She grew up primarily in Victorville, CA, which is notable only in being the filming location of The Hills Have Eyes. Her poetry may be found in birdy. Magazine, Angel City Review and petrichor.