Flying at NightA Poem by Sean EatonA day after the clocks have shifted back an
hour, it is 5 p.m. and already dark out. I
am lying in bed reading three books at once, in
alternation, trying to override my broken attention
span which cannot focus on any book
for more than a chapter at a time. Remember to
drink more water! the
doctors say, and I obey. Continually, I pee. Continually,
I wash my hands and arms raw. Outside,
some fool in a Cessna is flying their blunt striped swan through
the slate-gray corpse of day, the
heavy machinery of those rainclouds inviting the
lampblack ink of night to spread between
their corroded-silver printing plates. What
a fool, flying so late into the night. How
do they expect to land? © 2024 Sean EatonAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthor
Sean EatonVTAboutEmerging poet from New England, USA. Published 14+ times in first year, including Young Ravens Literary Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, Arboreal Magazine, and Stone Poetry Quarterly. Lover of art ci.. more..Writing
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