looking at the screen
to land. Running out of fuel,
flying minus an engine tightens up
the suspension. The air is thin

as ma’s hairpin. But the clouds
are thick as a cement brick. Veering
off as a wild horse, bent as his divorce –
circling. If we don’t bring her

down! Pieces strewn! Not all immune
from crashing. I see the signs of
freedom flashing close to
my eyes!