Cy Pres
- Dec 18, 2025
- 2 min read

I.
He says
tell me we’re
approaching JFKÂ
without telling me
Â
we’re approaching JFK
as the fasten seat belt
sign illuminates
I reply
Â
so many chlorinated
rectangles
shimmer below us
separated by white
fences like cloud
wisps
Â
messing with
my perception
of up and down—
so glad the pilot
has those anti-
crash devices.
Â
II.
I am thinking Â
of a legal
principle that looks
like a tree spelled
by a third grader
Â
if I recall correctly
(if not, please excuse
my minor liberties
in light of those
seized by others)
it means
Â
next best thing
as in you wanted
to donate your
billions to a charity
benefiting a majestic
but now extinct species
Â
so you give instead
to a foundation for
its drab closest kin or
you had your heart
Â
set on strawberry
ice cream but there
is none to be had
so you settle for hot
pink sorbet.
Â
III.
Our pilot is unfazed
by the excess of
New Jersey
swimming pools
Â
and we glide
onto the tarmac
with a smattering
of claps and I consider
all we have
lost in so short a time
Â
but in the absence
of certainty and peace
of mind there is
at least for some
the option
Â
of placing a weary
body under treated
water on those
rare occasions
when the weather
is just right.
Colette Parris is a Caribbean-American attorney who returned to her literary roots during the pandemic. Her work can be found in Michigan Quarterly Review, Scoundrel Time, Gordon Square Review, The Healing Muse, LEON Literary Review, and elsewhere. She lives in New York. Read more at coletteparris.com.Â
