Evening Bird: A poem dedicated to the lives lost on flight PS752

Dearly to the sun, your serpentine fins embraced bluffs, tripped the morosely linking earth & the heavens with howling wings.

You became lines of sun-split stanzas & warped seas underneath you. You hoot ecstatic stunts, ‘everyone deserved a sunbath.’                                                                                                

You didn’t have enough sleep, you ne’er dreamt. You imitated a night-disciple;

zombied your hands over your shoulders, and blurred God in the face.

Unbelievers chose the head, the tail, I chose none but you burned blue through your gasps in awe & palpitate as volatile balloons; from the lip of a knitting needle. You gasped fireworks, heaven echoed fossil fuels.

Against the hard clicks of a gong & strikes of human-skinned drums, the spotlight was moved to us in thick tears, & our tight gullets as a tourniquet.

We were displaced, cruised amid police gossamers           ‘police lines, do not cross.

Our feet swept metallic feathers, our hands with a kettle douche in a pool of grief; one flopped a portrait & the other lantern. The debris clasped our locust jeans to melting plastics & iron shafts.  

Evening bird, as you watched tears rain from our eyes & haven’t yet proved enough theory on risk society, please; Fall! Fall!! Fall alone!!! like a thunderbolt faraway from our smiles.

Bayowa Ayomide

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