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POETRY

Odd as this seems, "Airport Flags" started out as a poem in iambic
pentameter. It started with an exercise in blank verse and that's where I
got some of the lines with more awkward phrasing. By the third or fourth
draft however, I dropped the iambic pentameter altogether just so I could
focus more on the content than form. If you look for it, though, some of the
lines still are in blank verse.

Editor's Comments:
Jedd created a careful melody to capture the sadness of this goodbye. He uses the perspective of the flags to articulate this very human moment. "Airport Flags" demonstrates mastery of technique and voice.

Airport Flags

By Jedd Roche
age: 16
South Carolina

The airport's flags hang from the roof,
holding onto their thrones of rafters.
I stand beneath the blues, the whites,
the greens of guardians that watch and sigh.
We wait for boarding call to take you home
and I am wishing I had tickets too.
Your hair thick, obsidian, and distinct,
will never be seen by my lost eyes, again,
no longer gray but red, like Russia's banner,
who, from far above, judges and sways
with Poland and Zimbabwe frowning at her sides.
To know I'm holding you the last time now,
I want to crush you here within my grasp
and I'll absorb your body into mine,
like farewell conversations that, rising up,
are swallowed by the hungry flags above.


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