Know your weakness, know its horror,
know the dried out mouth and terror.
Buckle up and breathe more slowly,
watch the fields recede beneath your
trembling feet with staring eyes and
pray for safety in the upper
air as surging engines stumble
flattening out above the cirrus.
Placid for a while at least now
seek forgetfulness in epics
set in Rome or other eras
bound to that, our earthly surface.
Start to cower as we descend,
falling leaden to the planet,
plunging at the roofs and tarmac.
Now, beside yourself with shaking,
hyperventilate, deny this
sharp decline and screaming danger
begging that the shuddering hull and
wheels at last return you safely,
silent, certain, grounded, flightless.
Peter Keeble
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