Night Flight

 

I

Turbulence rattles us
but it's ok,
my book is strapped in.
It is tucked, closed and safe.

The cabin drops in darkness
with no frame of gravity
except for our rising buoyancy
and heart-rates.

Dull thuds hit the thin walls
but the blinking wing lights
fail to solve the mystery.

The elastic night stretches,
smoothly fitting our fears
in its cruel talons,
closing and climbing.


II

The heads are matted in dried blood.
Black clots thicken the hair and
the features are pulped as they hit
the fuselage.

Some are sucked into the engines,
rattling and shaking the doors
to Death's mansion.

Still they fall, in their hundreds.


III

"This is the captain.
Brace for impact."