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Above the Clouds

Where's Saturday?

The poet philosophically muses about the disorientation caused by a trans-Atlantic flight. The plane adrift in clouds, a fast-forward night, a Saturday lost forever.

Way back when, men ruled the globe

pole to pole through Greenwich

along a route invisible–

set watches, sundials, drums to agree

upon “Today.”

Crossing their rule, our sixteen-hour flight

leaves Friday, to arrive Sunday.

Go figure.

En route meals arrive at such odd hours

only breakfast comes announced

by cereal.  Lunch or dinner? 

I remove headphones

to ask.

Window shades block out the stagnant thick 

of a fast-forward night.  Others sleep.

I rest.

I would fail a standard mental status test—

How can I be oriented in place or time

in cloud-drift skies that arc vast seas

when already it may be


Reading a Book

Carol Kanter's poetry has appeared in over seventy journals and anthologies.

She describes her poetry as 'accessible.'  She and her photographer

husband have put together three art books on Africa; India, Nepal and

Bhutan; and SE Asia. (

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