Wednesday Airport

Wednesday Airport

By Ben Nardolilli

Meadow, meadow, we’re distracted, 

opening fast, outside of the pressure we need

our hands are running over the blades,

hands we can’t control together

who was speaking? The captain was trying

to keep everything temperate

now sparks cling, floozies on the metal,

the cavern is split, where did you go?

One big gallop out of the city

gallop, gallop, what we needed and now

we’re subdued into the vegetation,

left together, right, where are you bouncing?

Hands are mixed with steps, 

cavern, cavern, come back to hold us

Wednesday’s burning, a fire in a valley,

a new valley, the seat is stitched in a low pile

playing with the blades, the meadow

survived December, not now

this Wednesday, the trees opened the cavern

over the blades: fuel, glass, and nails