Flight by Franz Wright

Flight

1

That glass was it filled with alcohol, water, or light

At ten

I turned you into a religion

The solitary

four-foot priest of you, I kept

the little manger candle

burning, I

kept your black half-inch of

scripture

in the hiding place

Destroyer

of the world

That empty

Glass

2

In which city was it, in fourth or fifth grade, Mother read in the newspaper you'd be appearing and dressed me up in suit

and little tie

and took me

I wanted to run to you—who were all these people?—

I sat alone beaming

at you who could not meet my eyes, and after

you shyly approached

and shook my hand

3

If I'm walking the streets of a city

covering every square inch of the continent

all its lights out

and empty of people,

even then

you are there

If I'm walking the streets

overwhelmed with this love for the living

I will still be a blizzard at sea

Since you left me at eight I have always been lonely

star-far from the person right next to me, but

closer to me than my bones you

you are there

4

It's 1963 again, the old Minneapolis airport so vast

        to me, and I am running

after the long flight alone I am running

into your huge arms—

Now

I am forty-five now and I am dreaming

we are together again we are both forty-five

and I have you all to myself this time, and we are walking

together we're walking down a glowing-blue tunnel

we're on time for our flight, I can hardly believe it

we are traveling somewhere together alone

God knows where we are going, and who cares

we're together, walking

and happily talking

and laughing, and breathing.