MIA to BGI

Second leg —

And the orangey-white

Twinkling grid

Of Miami blazes impossibly

Beneath the left wing.

We turn on a tilt,

Grinding and buckling,

And thanks to gravity

And that banquet of air,

Make a heading,

Dagger-eyed and tail blinking,

Toward the equator,

Where the planet

Bulges closer to the sun.

The black cuts into view

At the land’s edge,

The sea there below,

And we rattle and rocket —

Just me and God,

And the rivets along the wings.

It’s all a dream state —

The Diet Coke trembling

In its plastic cup on stage left

Of my seatback tray.

The loafers on my feet

That trudged through snow and ice

This morning

Hours from now,

If those rivets hold,

Will traipse the good 

Ocher dust of the West Indies.

I know nothing.
I need to go where
I am directed.

How can I retain

The miraculous?

With this poem.