‘Turbulence’ by Jessica Traynor

The cup judders in my hand
and the Russians beside me
fall silent.

In this slender cigar, we crouch
as if our stillness
might calm the air outside,

and I am Caliban, spirit-stoked.
My words a curse or a howl;
what could I summon

from my well of understanding
to put meaning on a death
so far away from you?

What language does the mother
three rows back whisper
into her sleeping baby’s ear?

Can someone, in the moments
it will take for us
to topple from the sky,

for us to splash star-like on the ground,
for lit gasoline to obliterate
our eyes and teeth,

in those precious seconds,
can someone teach me
that language?

From issue #9.5: spring/summer 2020

About the Author
Jessica Traynor is a poet, dramaturg and creative writing teacher. Her debut collection, Liffey Swim (Dedalus Press, 2014), was shortlisted for the Strong/Shine Award. Her second collection, The Quick, was a 2019 Irish Times poetry choice. She is Poet in Residence at the Yeats Society, Sligo, and a Creative Fellow of UCD.