Flying Into Tulsa at Night

Flying into Tulsa at Night

(a response to Robert Frost)

Peter Spaulding

Seven shivering sisters huddle
in the cold above our bobbing plane,
over stratus, under cirrus,
lights above and below to fly by.

Between our feet are stars
where a human race is.
As the stratus parts,
I knit haphazard constellations
in attempt to irrigate the desert places
between the incandescent blips.
I needle haphazardly a golden thread
like time-lapsed headlights
in a travel magazine ad,
The motion of pulsing vessels
of light generates heat
like the kind that burns stars.

---

Peter Spaulding
Poet & Editor

Peter is an Assistant Editor at Renascence Journal and has been published in Portage Magazine, the Marquette Literary Review, and elsewhere

Photography by Uri Segura