by Heather Christle

Brush off the annual evaluation meeting
and fly over Connecticut in a small
private plane. I have no idea what that
feels like to you or to anyone. Man
in the dining car, stop eavesdropping
on children talking about balloons.
You are too heavy for light aviation.
Best of all is the hovercraft, then you
can barely call it flying. Go away,
often. Visit London. Visit aunts.
Brochures have a thousand pictures
and a thousand uses. You could make
a travel room from your den, just
by stapling them to the lamps.
Only from the world’s flimsiest spots
will the light shine through.

(“Vehicle” is reprinted here today with permission from the poet.)

Heather Christle is the author of two full-length poetry collections: The Difficult Farm (2009), and the forthcoming The Trees The Trees, as well as a chapbook, The Seaside! (2010). She received her MFA from the Program for Poets and Writers at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, and her BA from Tufts University. Her poems have appeared in The Believer, Boston Review, Fence, Gulf Coast, and Third Coast, and have been anthologized in The Best American Erotic Poems: 1800 to the Present. She is the Web Editor at jubilat and a member of the Advisory Board for the Juniper Summer Writing Institute.

Want to read more by and about Heather Christle?
Octopus Magazine
heather christle-in the library with the wrench

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  1. Sivan says:

    A great poem comprised of snippets of narrative. Reminds me of a cross between Yehuda Amichai’s poem “A Pity We Were Such a Good Invention” and the monologue from Trainspotting that begins with “Choose life. Choose a job. Choose dental insurance.”

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