Local Verse- Ben (staff)

Here's a poem I wrote a while ago, when I was in the midst of uprooting myself to move, a little haphazardly, to Asia. I wasn't sure where I'd end up, but I was ready to get going.

Taking Off
Ben Bliss

Expeditionary angels,

Hear me out.

I know it’s your door I must knock on,

Your buzzer that needs buzzing.

I know it. But I’m going

Around back, past your big entryway

And all its columns. I’m going

On the side path, through the daphne

And the other fragrant plants

That grow beneath your windows.

I’ll meet you on the back porch,

Among your garden slippers.

You’ll know me by my reticence

And the racket I can’t help but make.

No doubt you’ve heard it before—

This clatter of tipped-over things,

These quick breaths that come before

You send us away.

I’m rattled. What is it that's leaving?

These days every song moves me.

The camera pans, there's a migratory surge

In the music, and out the window

For a moment we can see

Cloud-slung, darkening canyons.