Aug 2021
My undercarriage hangs open,
Evacuees swell my bony fuselage
To occupy their seats.
My rubber legs skirt
The char and ash of little fires,
Fires that burn in Helmand.
My jumbo wings buzz into life,
Before the clock ticks down. . .
Evacuees swell my bony fuselage
To occupy their seats.
My rubber legs skirt
The char and ash of little fires,
Fires that burn in Helmand.
My jumbo wings buzz into life,
Before the clock ticks down. . .
This poem was inspired by the plight of the Afghanistan people, who have been abandoned by the West and by their feeble attempts to airlift out those that fought alongside them. I was also thinking of Kafka in the metamorphosis of the aeroplane into a fly. Comments most welcome!
