Shopping Cart
    items

      July 20, 2014How I Fathom the CrashMegan Collins

      I think about the toothbrushes, tucked in their travel packs
      like snug children. I think about the pairs of underwear,
      counted to match the number of days away. I wonder
      what books the passengers were reading, if the authors
      ever considered their words might turn to kindling, or if
      it’s true what people say—that stories survive us all.
       
      I can’t envision the bodies, but I can imagine passports
      and receipts, the in-flight magazines that barely get a glance.
      I can feel the plastic wrappings of airport snacks, how they
      sometimes slip beneath fingertips just before they’re torn apart.
      I think about seat backs and tray tables in their upright and locked
      positions; I think of wedding rings twirled, feet set on the floor.
       
      Then I picture the wings reattaching to the plane, which arcs back
      into the sky, swallowing its own smoke as it goes. I picture the pages
      of books being turned in reverse, the endings getting farther and farther
      away. I picture the kisses that saw each person off that morning, watch
      the couples’ eyelids slide to a close once more. Then, while they still
      have moments to spare, their lips come together like hands in prayer.

      from Poets Respond

      Megan Collins

      “When I heard that nearly 300 people died in the Malaysia Airlines plane that crashed in Ukraine on Thursday, I couldn’t comprehend the size of that loss. Three hundred people is more than went to my high school at one time, but that number still felt too abstract to me. I found that I could only fathom the weight of that tragedy by thinking of it in terms of its smallest parts—the items that everyone packs, the familiar routines of a flight, and the goodbyes that nobody ever anticipates will be final. Focusing on these things brought the situation to light for me: these people, who’d packed up their things and held onto boarding passes with their destinations written on them, had believed that their lives would go on.”