From Issue 22: When I Try to Meditate on
a Plane & Instead Imagine…

Mimi Plevin-Foust

someone pulling open the
emergency exit, sucking me
out as I grab onto the door
frame— then whip away,
perhaps still buckled to my seat
with other hapless fliers
hurtling through sheer freezing
blue toward the cloud cover’s
endless Arctic below….

Would I unbuckle from my
seat and stretch out like a hawk
or sky diver spread-eagled
in happy freefall like all my
dreams of flying, controlling
my descent like a glider,
phone-keys-ID’s dropping
away as I pray to every angel
and archangel for my perfect
rescue, preferably plunging
right into a band of handsome
paratroopers who grab me into
their star formation, then break
apart to hold me close as their
chutes explode open overhead,
allowing me to enjoy sailing
through the heavens in the
arms of a devilishly good-
looking airman to land in an
open field of soft alfalfa with
hardly a scratch?

Or, do I stay buckled in to ride
that airplane seat down to a
breathtaking water landing, my
seat skiing across some large
unfrozen lake, my legs pointed
straight ahead to avoid drag,
until, soaking wet but
unharmed, I gently glide to a
bobbing halt near two curious
swans, the whole skid live-
streamed by amazed joggers on
shore?

Of course, I’ve left out the
logical end to my story when I
slam into whatever I happen to
hit—ground, trees, power
lines— ripping my soul free
from its shattered body—
wiser—in that I at last know
what a person thinks about
when hurtling to their certain
death and whether that moment
comes before or exactly when
she meets the ground.

 

Over her career, Mimi Plevin-Foust has been a poet, glass artist, screenwriter and filmmaker. Her poems and articles have been published by Carve Magazine, LearnVest/Forbes.com, POZ Magazine, Willow Review, and more. She lives in Cleveland, Ohio and recently won the Gordon Square Review Poetry Contest. Learn more at mimiplevinfoust.com.

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