Gail Eisenhart
An Unremarkable Landscape
Shanksville, PA – United Flight 93
Wind drones an incessant dirge in a cathedral
of hardwood trees near a narrow road
that separates scattered farms.
No thundering waterfall,
no snow-crested mountain
just
a grassy field in Pennsylvania
where a silver bird plunged from the sky
and vaporized…
a grotto now
fertilized with blood
and white ash of bones
where flags amass to salute
a phylum of heroes,
men and women
who stood.
It takes
my breath
away.
Wind drones an incessant dirge in a cathedral
of hardwood trees near a narrow road
that separates scattered farms.
No thundering waterfall,
no snow-crested mountain
just
a grassy field in Pennsylvania
where a silver bird plunged from the sky
and vaporized…
a grotto now
fertilized with blood
and white ash of bones
where flags amass to salute
a phylum of heroes,
men and women
who stood.
It takes
my breath
away.
In the Orlando Airport
Sunlight streams through the glass dome
and strikes her halo of corn-silk curls.
Dragging a Cinderella suitcase, she trudges
through the terminal wearing a crown
of Mickey Mouse ears.
Barely three feet tall, she flaunts fluorescent pink
sneakers, rubber heels worn to an angle
by her slightly pigeon-toed gait. Grinning
and grimacing in turn, she struggles to keep up
with her weary parents and wordlessly
makes a statement:
she’s been to Disney World;
nothing can stop her now.
--
Gail Eisenhart’s poems have been published recently in Mid Rivers Review, CANTOS, Front Range, Barely South Review and in Flood Stage: an anthology of St. Louis Poets. A retired Executive Assistant, she works part time at the Belleville (IL) Public Library and travels in her spare time, collecting memory souvenirs that show up in new poems.