death and departure at ika airport

tomorrow will be january

in seven days it will be two years.

I step onto the plane,

enveloped by thick nauseating

sweet perfume,

rows of honey spelled skin

like mine,

our tongues dance to the same rhythm.

tight blonde ponytails

wrapped in silk cloths

swing like pendulums

syncing with the shrill click-clack

of their heels,

the flight attendants pace the aisles

ticking seconds, a countdown,

a take off,

a missile launch.

in bed I watch the planes

from the corner of my window,

at 9pm they pass every minute

bellowing and streaking through quiet skies,

the rumble rocks me to sleep

jet engines hum along

to the dishwasher

drifting to the back of my mind.

I am not sure I can love them,

they are not far enough off the ground to be mistaken for stars.

plane crashes are far less common than

death by futons or food poisoning.

but in the metal tin, awaiting take off

at ika airport,

the Hollywood scenes flash before my eyes,

biting and raucous screams

flickering lights

drooping oxygen masks

the beverage cart clashing through the aisle,

I cannot stop thinking

about that flight.

in the very same skies,

in the very same airport,

carbon copies

of the same people,

the inbetweeners,

we are pawns

suspended between two sects of soil

coming and going,

shards of debris

collateral damage

of two empires

was it an instaneous impact?

was there space for a second of awareness

to contemplate death at the hands of war?

did someone see the flash of flame

from a window seat

miliseconds before

they could open their mouth to scream?

the sweat of my palms loosens

my clench on the armrest.

we take off and

I ponder death,

if this were to happen

again and to me,

I could be one of the lucky ones

who knew it was coming

and could spend the final minutes

pondering the cease of my existence.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ukraine_International_Airlines_Flight_752