A blessed feast of Corpus Christi to you all this weekend!
Sharing another great poem from Ben Marsh. If you’ve ever been on a flight, then I’m sure you’ll enjoy this one. Please like and share.
Cheers!
The Binny Boys
200 sigh and puff from mouths adjusting to the air.
Slowly, The People filter through the plane, careful not to stare
Themselves directly in the face. Most fix their eyes before their feet,
Plug in a tune, and, huffing, shuffle down the narrow street.
~
A toddler waddles down the aisle. Her eyebrows arch in fear
And turn to mama, stopped behind. “Go on, we’re almost here”
The mother coos while dripping bags. The child does not care,
demands an “uppie” and becomes another weight to bear.
~
The aesthete (not like other girls) forgot her AirPod case.
The chargeless pods hang anyways—defense against her race.
No conversation will be had. She’s planned the perfect flight:
Adopt Picasso’s English and feign Stevie Wonder’s sight.
~
The newlyweds erect no armrest wall. They fussed with bags
before they sat, muttered short expletives when loops hit snags.
But now they’re tangled, flipping SkyMall, sipping Tazo teas.
While images of toasters heat domestic fantasies.
~
Self-Consciously, a fat man settles in his narrow space.
He thinks small thoughts, tries to buckle, reddens in the face.
He deems himself, through nervous scans, the portliest offender,
And meekly asks the attendant for a safety belt extender.
~
A ball-capped, Tattooed, sunglassed bro extends his meaty thigh
To maximize his space. The boy beside can’t wait to fly.
The bro can see his neighbor’s smile enlivened by the roaring.
He grins himself, remembering the first-time joy of soaring.
~
A calming, pleasant voice describes a hypothetical
Emergency with language curt and unpoetical.
Ailerons swing, lights flicker, breaths hold, fingers grip, texts send.
200 lurch ahead, dashing to reach the runway’s end.