Have you ever taken notice,
Just how blue that winter sky seems
Fresher than spearmint
And clearer than ice
Lazily the challenged sun
Bobs across this treacly path
Straining but not stretching
As it saves its warmth
For far off days
I see this sky
It tilts my neck
To take in views of jet-fuel furrows
Strafing home from south to north
Before the dogleg for New York
Here beneath the flightpath
Of the scattered 259
Whose atoms won’t relent their grip
And bring us back to our senseless world
I watch the planes fly overhead
As they look down on me
Between us lay the passengers
Of Pan Am 103
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I rode through Lockerbie on the Friday. Holes bigger than houses. The scene is indelibly etched in my memory. Ez.