flight
to me traveling to other countries is as unlikely
as following the seven ravens
or picking a lollipop off the house
of Hansel and Gretl’s witch
so when you tell me you will go
and then come back
i blink back at you with the face
of a child who just got wise to Santa Claus
the hope of it followed by a quick stab
of disappointed recognition
Belgium to me is a mussel shell
a black snapped coin purse
with you in the center
and Venice is a handful of glass beads
tossed by sun against the water
so that they plink up, dotting the i’s of waves
i have no images for the rest
of the places you will see except
the train stations, clamoring gray music boxes
overflowing with wheeled suitcases and balled wrappers
and the airports, their rows of bolted seats
like the backbones of magic animals
you perched on the withers of the largest one, clutching
fur,
looking forward
Doritt Carroll is (unfortunately) a lawyer and (fortunately) the
mother of two daughters. A native of Washington, DC, she received her
undergraduate and law degrees from Georgetown University. Her collection
In Caves was published in 2010 by Brickhouse Books. Her book GLTTL STP
was published in 2013 by Brickhouse Books, and the title poem was nominated for
a Pushcart Prize. Her poems have appeared in Coal City Review, Poet Lore,
Nimrod, Slipstream, Rattle, Plainsongs, Folio, Gargoyle, and other journals,
and she has served as one of the Shakespeare Theatre’s poets in
residence. She currently runs the Zed’s poetry reading and open mic
series.
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