Playback.

屏幕快照 2015-10-13 2.24.19 PM

vol.01

ASCENT
Linnea McNally

Take Off

In a frightful flightless
futile world,
we are invincible.
Wax and wings,
and we take flight,

Ascent

I want to find it strange
when we crawl within this tin tube
world below
and tune out.
I want to be disconcerted
like Daedalus
as we dart about the sun.
I want to sit in awe
of how unearthly it is
to be suspended
by nothing.
I want,
but then I don’t.

32 000 feet

My parents say we should marry.
I’m not sure why, when
they sleep in two beds
and we sleep in one.

Mid-Air

When I was at the shopping plaza
just earlier this week,
a girl rolled past me
hot in pursuit of a lap-dance with Santa.
She’ll squirm and wiggle
her favourite new moves;
the wheels on the heels of
last year’s pink runners
will no longer do.
And I think
I want our children to walk
before they learn to ride.

Motion Sickness

Turbulence.
It sounds like a word
we’d get hooked on in
Grade Seven.
just to annoy our teachers.
Like spatula.
Spatulas are strange tools, really,
because in real life
we can’t just smooth out
the bumps and bubbles
with a magic rubber wand.
Instead,
we settle for turbulence.

Descent

Settling is often,
well,
unsettling.
I lose my name.
You feel the pressure
in the pit of your stomach.
Our ears pop.
Gravity gains.
We bounce.
Things jiggle.
We’re propelled forward—
and halt.