Michelle Brittan Rosado
Editor’s note: This poem is best viewed on the full width of a desktop or laptop screen.
Poem in the Form of a Seating Chart for an Airbus A380
When the takeoff is over and the city of San Francisco doesn’t slide off
the tilting side of the earth and all becomes still water for hours
and hours I am back next to the aisle in wonder at elbows
and the sound of our metal buckles opening and clasping shut
again and the beep before the captain speaking nothing
I understand and the curves of ice in the concentrated orange
juice flattening against my tongue and the tailored batik uniforms
of the flight attendants and the intimations of whispered
dialects and the deep white noise of the engines spinning
a cocoon around us and the funnel of air conditioning from above
my head like an extraction from the clouds and the part of me leaving
or arriving all my life never quite there always anticipating waiting
the concept of family on the other side of the earth
with my ears full of cotton and no one can quite hear anyone but we are
together and loneliness feels like a chamber we can break open into new air
Author’s note: The poems in this series all use the image of a window as their starting point, some in the title itself and others more peripherally. I’ve been thinking of this symbol a lot lately — as a portal for wonder in childhood, an aperture to others’ lives during the pandemic, a view of the world outside after giving birth and spending those early days indoors. These poems may not have come into existence without the invitation to contribute to The Fresno 15, and I am endlessly grateful to the MFA program for my years there and the deep sense of community I’ve carried with me since graduating in 2011. Thank you for reading and for supporting the Larry Levis Memorial Scholarship.
Fresno Writers dot com 