RETURN FLIGHT

Poetry by Farley Walker

 

I begin to crave my mama’s potato salad
but a handful of salty peanuts must do
for now. I sit in this reprocessed air
and question what happens tomorrow
when wheels hit southern soil.

Because sometimes the odor of decay
can be masked by magnolias
and I forget
what it is like to suffocate.
I’m caught between fields of tomatoes
and black-eyed peas,
zinnias swelling in an old bathtub,
a roadside stand just past D’Lo
that pushes satsumas and peach ice cream,
while old ladies still wear mink in spring,
and oversized Rams flex their muscles
as the drivers yowl and catcall,
in echo of a rebel yell.

I search for revelation, but I’d settle
for a new pair of shoes,
a twelve-dollar bottle of wine,
someone to kiss goodnight,
or at least a better way to say
all this.

Still, I’ll be home tomorrow.
Unless I let this
boarding pass slip out of my hands.

§ § §

Farley Walker is currently working on her M.A. in creative writing at the University of Southern Mississippi. Her focus has been poetry, but she recently discovered she enjoys writing essays as well. Her work is forthcoming in ONTHEBUS, Poetry Motel, Monkeybicycle, and Seven Seas Magazine. She can be reached at farley322@yahoo.com.

This piece was first published in INK POT #1 - 2003, a literary journal.

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