Theology of Flight

By CHRISTOPHER BAKKEN

 

Morning wind speaks a dialect of smoke,
brings news from yesterday and tomorrow:
what’s burning there will soon enough burn here.

One bullet. Even a rumor of bullet
restless in the chamber of a neighbor’s gun.
To run, before he arrives with his god.

Gather only what can be carried.
No litany for the uncompassed,
beyond the song of our shed weight.

How easy, then, to mistake us for a crowd
of ibis, some endangered birds, casting
thin, anonymous shadows

across the now deserted flyways.
Rather than soar, driven by seasons,
we drift the shifting borders, anywhere,

which lead down always to a scrap
of coast, and the chained islands
of So Close, Almost There, and Too Far.

 

Christopher Bakken is the author of three books of poetry—most recently Eternity & Oranges—as well as the culinary memoir Honey, Olives, Octopus: Adventures at the Greek Table. He is director of Writing Workshops in Greece: Thessaloniki & Thasos, and he teaches at Allegheny College.

[Purchase Issue 27 here.]

Theology of Flight

Related Posts

Black and white image of a bird with a long neck

Dispatch from Marutha Nilam

SAKTHI ARULANANDHAM
With the swiftness and dexterity / of a hawk that pounces upon a chicken / and takes it by force, / the bird craves / snapping up a vast terrain / with its powerful, sharp beak / and flying away with it. // When that turns out to be impossible, / in the heat of its great big sigh, / all the rivers dry up.

Tripas Book Cover

Excerpt from Tripas

BRANDON SOM
One grandmother with Vicks, one with Tiger Balm, rubbed / fires of camphor & mint, old poultices, / into my chest: their palms kneading & wet with salve, / its menthols, to strip the chaff & rattle in a night wheeze. Can you / hear their lullabies?

Blue cover of There is Still Singing in the Afterlife

Four Poems by JinJin Xu

JINJIN XU
my mother, my father. / Her skinny blue wrists, his ear caressing a cigarette. In the beginning, / it is already too late, but there is hunger & no time / to waste. All they need are six hands, three mouths, a clockwork / yearning for locks of their own, windows square & fresh.