Poetry 2016

Airplane Snacks

By Ryan Barker

When I was four I shoved Planters
brand peanuts up my nose
flying 40,000 feet high.
Salty mucus,
clogged corridors,


The fickle fingers
of a half smiling mother liberated
my small sockets
from restrictive pressures,

but hers never went away.

This is why you’re here

We enter this world crying.
The world cries back into us,
leaving stains.
The rule of reciprocity.

Maybe my nose chokes
on processed salt balls,

but maybe that’s why I’m here.