De-Icing the Plane

A man in yellow cab hangs off the truck, swaying dancer, spraying his nimble hose, swirling controls like a turnstile at Heathrow, his golden gaze first splashing my round window, slicing frosted snow, which falls precipitously to tarmac.

Next he engages the wide wing, sliding his long reach of an arm over silver sheen, slush mounting at the tip, then spilling off in a foamy flourish. Now a new length of limb submerged in spray, thick with milky solution.

Down the wing he travels, eyes on his spout, slurpy countenance. When at last satisfied, he signals the helm, tips his hat, swings past cockpit. Ready for take-off, gleaming in sun, the long winter over and out.

The years since my marriage dissolved, gone in a wet flash, window clear for some other dance. My future dangles on a taut cable, as the humming engine surges.

Carol Barrett directs the Creative Writing Certificate Program at Union Institute & University. Carol has published two volumes of poetry and one of creative nonfiction. A former NEA Fellow in Poetry, she has lived in nine states and in England.

You can see more of her work in 6.2 and 8.2 and 9.2 and 9.2 and 9.3 and 9.4

Previous | Next