Thursday, August 9, 2007

Lines Written Mid-Atlantic

There are quiet moments,
when we must feel like gods.

Mid-Atlantic on an overnight flight
The steady hum of metal wings
The cloud cake beneath us
A star just under our horizon
The frost, the double pane glass
The reclining chairs
Our plexi-glass map of the world.

The hungry water stirring below
Ready to swallow us whole.

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