Learning the Fear of Flight
When I flew to Boston,
right hand in my sister’s,
left hand clutching my stuffed parrot’s right wing
a flight attendant holding his left,
I remember the fearless jumping
the unbound thrill of flight
my tiny body somehow sucked
through and out the jet turbines,
spinning in the clouds.
But when I flew south, years later,
my sister was in school, and my mother
hid behind a concrete pillar
while my stepfather made sure I learned
The truth is, he told me, family only misses you
if you never come back.
Ben Walls holds a BA in English and has returned to school recently. He is a 30 year old father to six cats, has driven across the continental US twice, and loves to sing. He has created, and promptly forgotten how to access, a half dozen blogs and remains convinced there are elves inside his phone. His work has previously been seen at Melancholy Hyperbole and Up the Staircase Quarterly.
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