If you are at all intrigued by Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979) , check out her book of uncollected poems, drafts and fragments: Edgar Allan Poe & The Juke-Box, a lovely supplement to the 101 poems she published during her lifetime.
You are leaving the earth
but only a little distance
a hairsbreadth, your flight–
or a short /curly/ hair of your head
laid on the earth, would describe it–
but just that much is so hard to do,
it has cost other people centuries of effort
and is costing us centuries of grief.
In the hot, crowded terminal
we both look smaller, older,
your gabardine suit looks shabbier.
Have a martini. The great effort is yet to begin.
Our eyes bleary & / /
we made lists on half-wet paper napkin–
What are we, in this mob,
in this noisy restaurant–
just at the misty window
the /slick/ heavy wings slow
it waits to /negotiate/
it will deposit you like a seed–
hold on, as I lose you.