Stuart Rawlinson #76 - Kimpo, Sunday Flight

All fears converge
Waiting for the last
Flight out of Kimpo
A limbo that needed
To be invented
And placed behind
Heavy wooden doors
The old terminal
Glows in the final light
Deserted arrivals
Hall of migraine
The tower melts
Into the orange
Horizon. Tugs
Pull me outwards
Some journeys just
Have to be made