QAirportEmily Kendal Frey

Blue Hour Press1709 8tH st

tuscaloosa, al 35401

www.bluehourpress.com

editor@bluehourpress.com

copyright © 2009 emily Kendal Freyall rights reserved.

Photograph by robyn York, Smoke (2009). www.postart.ca.cover and art by Justin runge.

Grateful thanks to the editors of the following publications in which the following poems first appeared:

Inch: “I’m my own…”

Strange Machine: “on the way I thought…,” “When I picked you…” and “I left my jacket…”

“I drink full…,” “When we find out…,” “Your car is a black…,” “I want the things I face…,” “How do we live…,” “the tarmac looks…” and “the restroom is quiet…” are featured in The Unwin-Dunraven Quarterly, Issue 2

for ZS

Airport

on the way I thoughtthe freeway might

break in halfand on the way back

a bird flew backwardsout of me

Airport

as I circled into your terminal

a snake bit my ankleand I had to press

on the reliant’s brakeso hard I almost

threw you into the sky

Airport

I left my jacketon a plane

Airport

at the tGI Friday’swe got

an exuberant waiterwho brought our fried

green beans withextreme speed

It made us feellike we were flying

Airport

I drink fullcans of cranberry

when airbornethe sweetness

keeps meI won’t see any

slash of sunon mountains

not already seeno Woman

across the aislewith sad hands

daughter meWho are we?

I’m saying everythingover california

Airport

the revolving dooris comforting

I take a fewextra turns inside

letting the new peoplein my pie slice

shift and breathe on me

I move intothe terminal

a little less lonely

Airport

the departure timesshould be sharper,

more in focus I’m not going anywhere

I can getback from

the gatesare hard

like an alphabetBuy me some

sesame stixand a sweating

water I thoughtfor a second

I saw someone I knewbut it was deja vu

Airport

one analogyfor me today

is the grey snack boxflat and plastic-

wrapped with noone having any

clue about whatis inside only that

there are more layersto get through

Airport

When we find outthat we’re not

sitting togetherwe go to the counter

as if there’s somethingto be done about it

as if a planecould contain us

as if we couldgo anywhere we’re

not already flyingaway from

Airport

the moving walkwaykept catching

my shoelaceand I saw the place

I wantedto buy a snack at

whiz past soI just kept

going into a newconcourse with a lot

of old gateswith old rules like

smoking and beingquiet and beige

Airport

as you lift offand the wheels

fold under the planelike bat feet

remember mehunching home

in the rainthe place between

our knees is empty

Airport

I know your bagis big and things

like papers andsweaty waters

are falling from itbut could you

move it asideso I can sit

and wait at thisdumpy gate?

Airport

How do we livemuch less

breathein this place

of potentialdisaster?

I don’t meanburning clouds

but the peopleon the ground

ready toforget us

before wecome down

Airport

I’m my ownGod’s arrow

flung from my ownbow into

a fat skymoving through

places I don’trecognize

Airport

the restroom is quietas a kite

I hedge my bagsagainst my legs

blink blink blink

Airport

the tarmac looksback at me:

You thinkyou can die

in my shade?

Airport

every voiceannouncing flights

has to saythe same thing twice:

Get on boardFight for your life

Airport

this is the housewe go to

when there is nobird to fly

dumb hopinginto

Airport

two peoplestruggled

at the baggageclaim Don’t

touch my stuffa jerky guy

said to a short ladyopening his

non-descript bagshe took a long time

backing offand I really wanted

to high five her

Airport

I want the things I faceto face me:

back, back, backtime, time, time

Airport

Your car is a blackwhale come to

eat me. I standstill and hope

it happens quickly

the textblocks were set in Perpetua, designed by eric Gill in 1929. the titles are set in Frutiger, the ubiquitous airport signage typeface commissioned by the charles De Gaulle International airport in 1968, designed by adrian Frutiger.