Pegasus Sneak Peek – “The Little Green Airplane”
By TAYLOR KANG
The Pegasus club, advised by Dr. Hartnett, has been devoted to producing Jericho High School’s annual literary magazine for over 20 years.
Junior Nasif Quadir submitted his poem “The Little Green Airplane” to Pegasus, which will be published in the 2014-2015 edition. Quadir said the piece was based on an experience during math class. “A classmate made a paper airplane out of some green paper and started tossing it around. I threw it with him for some five minutes before my teacher came in, just like in the poem.” On his writing process, Quadir said, “I had writer’s block for a while until I just looked up to take a break. Then, it was just like magic. The whole room just came to me in an instant, and I was flooded by all these ideas and thoughts and sensations […]”
The Little Green Airplane
The soft music of a guitar’s strings gently strummed
Emanates through the air.
I close my eyes
And I see golden brown notes slowly dancing.
And I feel the warmth of a cozy, dimly lit tavern.
And I smell a hearty cinnamon flowing along with cider, mirroring what is to come.
I open my eyes,
And a little green airplane floats by me,
It gracefully lands on my desk,
Like a lithe ballerina in an emerald-green dress.
I slowly pick it up with careful fingers
And throw it back to its origin.
I look up and find a light grin,
The signal that a new game has begun.
So I reciprocate that smile
And raise my hands,
Ready to catch that simple yet wondrous transformation of tree and dye.
My hands are outstretched.
My fingers are wide apart,
Like those of a baby in front of sparkling jewelry.
The little green airplane sails into my palms.
I take a moment to admire its fragile beauty
Before pitching it back.
Suddenly, the door slams open with a jarring crash.
The guitar stops with a resonating dissonance.
The friendly, kindred smile vanishes without a trace.
The little green airplane falls off-course and hits the furnace,
Where it crumples to the floor like fractured jade.
The teacher walks in with a chilly, brisk stride;
She shakes the substitute’s hand,
And he leaves with all the warmth.
I return to the black and white,
To straight rows, to melancholy, and to a hushed intimidation.
But out of the corner of my eye,
I see a ghost of a smile.
The little green airplane is picked up, smoothed out,
And packed away in a colorful little bag
For the next tiny blip
of treasured freedom.