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Overnight Flight, a poem by Henry Ahrens

Overnight Flight
by Henry Ahrens

Over hill poured beaker fog
but our plane slipped away
before it dissolved.

Soon enough my earphones fell out
then the man in front of you lost his spine,
turned to gelatin, head jiggling.

You slipped your shirt off—
night terror came
screaming over the continent.

The attendant stared
when you fell asleep shirtless,
I shrugged at her—kids.

Night fell away gently,
parts of the plane rained in sprinkles,
soft wafting, engine whining
to the furthest diving
of subconscious thought.

After long descent,
aircraft reassembled
among streaking blue lights,
touched down solid ground.

We put your shirt back on
and shuffled through the terminal.

Henry Ahrens attended St. Joseph's College in Rensselaer, Indiana, but now resides in Cincinnati, Ohio, where he teaches a variety of high school English classes. His works have appeared in From the Edge of the Prairie, Tipton Poetry Journal, and Indiana Voice Journal.