no matter how many skies have fallen :: erika meitner

Let’s say we are making a list,
and it’s not about how to be

good or zombie foreclosures
or anything resembling distress

calls from an airline going down
in a cluster of trees. Someone

says, I’ve got a situation here,
but they don’t mean that holiday

picture of you dangling handcuffs
from your index finger or the fact

that your mother loved you
very much until we enhanced

the audio. Let’s say we are in
violation of the local housing

code, which specifies the number
of outlets per room where we can

plug in to the network that says
Join Other Network or Airport: On.

The overhead compartments groan
under the weight of our collective

sadness and in the emergency exit
row we must speak English, confirm

with a loud yes that we’re willing
to perform certain duties. We agree

to rescue each other and strangers
who also glance sideways at street

grids from above during takeoff,
chew gum while we rise past what-

ever their threshold for fear or
adventure. We are under the care

of each other and sometimes we
fail mightily to contain the damage:

the house picked clean by scavengers,
the hanging gutters, collapsed garage.