Cy Pres

I.

He says

tell me we’re

approaching JFK 

without telling me

we’re approaching JFK

as the fasten seat belt

sign illuminates

I reply

so many chlorinated

rectangles

shimmer below us

separated by white

fences like cloud

wisps

messing with

my perception

of up and down—

so glad the pilot

has those anti-

crash devices.

II.

I am thinking  

of a legal

principle that looks

like a tree spelled

by a third grader

if I recall correctly

(if not, please excuse

my minor liberties

in light of those

seized by others)

it means

next best thing

as in you wanted

to donate your

billions to a charity

benefiting a majestic

but now extinct species

so you give instead

to a foundation for

its drab closest kin or

you had your heart

set on strawberry

ice cream but there

is none to be had

so you settle for hot

pink sorbet.

III.

Our pilot is unfazed

by the excess of

New Jersey

swimming pools

and we glide

onto the tarmac

with a smattering

of claps and I consider

all we have

lost in so short a time

but in the absence

of certainty and peace

of mind there is

at least for some

the option

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.