Author’s Note: Sometimes poets have epiphanies—sometimes we simply turn on the radio. I was listening to NPR when I heard the delightful tidbit that inspired this poem. I took words cut from magazines and arranged them in a playful way like you would arrange a set of poetry magnets. That’s how I ended up with the first line, this idea of subscribing to shooting stars. From there, the poem took off. No pun intended.
Away We Go
“On Wednesday, for the second time in six weeks, an unidentified
person was seen flying using a jetpack near Los Angeles International Airport.”
NPR, October 15, 2020
It’s time to subscribe
to more shooting stars.
To love, a passage of peace.
Press pause, take this outside
to pucker and crush as
we untangle our identities
and bird around the world,
glued-hip experts above
the peaceful rain forest.
Twinkling little flowers,
overflowing, magnifying,
warm and earthy,
we glow back, they glow
back at me. I witness new
know-how, frozen corn
confidence, glittering
infamy, Milky Way
footprints, celestial
breadcrumbs, the rush
of breath and wind,
blinking light beauty,
the ants, the fireflies,
the grace of instant small,
the granular goodness.
I fly and fly.
⧫
Jessica Gregg is a Maryland writer and former journalist whose poetry has appeared in Broadkill Review, Canary, Yellow Arrow Journal, Global Poemic, Tiny Seed Literary Journal, and Art in the Time of Covid-19 from the American Writers Review. Her chapbook, News from This Lonesome City, was published in 2019.
Delmarva Review publishes evocative new prose and poetry selected from thousands of submissions annually. Designed to encourage outstanding writing, the literary journal is nonprofit and independent. Financial support comes from tax-deductible contributions, sales, and a grant from the Talbot County Arts Council with funds from the Maryland State Arts Council. Website: DelmarvaReview.org.
Liz Fisher says
I wish to place a smile emoji here. 🙂 Love the notion, and the message!