and when you say my name
you'd think I had
one million Delta miles
from the trips my heart goes on
- except it doesn’t
because
my flight was cancelled
I’ve had this ticket for
nine months and twenty-three days
it was non-refundable
but I'm already on the plane
Dunkin’ coffee cup
perched precariously on the armrest
they almost spelled my name right
my phone only has 11%
I knew it could charge
right when we boarded
I thought you were waiting for me
you made paper “welcome” signs
and set up the pullout couch
I’ve been waiting
two hundred and ninety-eight days
and now you're telling me
this plane isn’t going anywhere.
my hopes for us have jammed the engines.

Stood, fixed to the spot the man observed well into the darkness
as far as the eye could see. This was his view, as he nervously awaited his flight. The large windows showcased a cascade of gale and rain, like a Russian ballet, some kind of twisted beauty. Looking outwards towards the sheer magnitude of the storm, blankets of pelting rain gunned down onto the tarmac ground. The only lights were from the large runway floodlights, rocking back and fourth as the wind began to show no mercy. The windows take a battering, as his mind contemplates ever get off this rock.
"Mother nature cannot be tamed, nor can her wrath, it's better to let her be," he mutters.
The loud speaker blurts out "Departure gates have now opened."
And, in this moment his fixed gaze slowly detaches itself from the wrath, away from the demon. Away, from the dance.

Dawn Demure
Dawn December day.
Machine peacefully sleeps.
Slumber banished.
RAF pilot.
Spitfire!
Kept warm, mission time, Norway bound.
Snow, fjords, mountains.
Cockpit, aboard, checks,
rise, feathery clouds.
Recon.
Fine machine, woman.
Precision engine.
Exquisite cameras, spy on ****’s Christmas.
Thousand mile trip, freedom.
Gentle hearts, honest loving men.
Tirpitz photos, Whitehall desks.
Experts, delicately place,
five ton Tallboy bombs.
Lancaster love.

Interesting Girl
The car was painted mat black
With red rimmed wheels
The windows were tinted
There were no plates
It looked menacing
Even if it was driven
By a girl...

...Who flew the plane
An F-35 Aggressor version
It was like her car
Mat black all over
With red wheel rims
A tinted cockpit
And no markings...

crystals flooding her eyes
she blinks, breaking the dam
they stream down her face, sparkling
the lights are a blur and the plane rises above them
she doesn't want to leave
"goodbye," she whispers
to their apartment
"goodbye," she whispers
to their favorite spot by the lake
"goodbye," she whispers
to the person who made her feel like she was worth it
she doesn't want to leave him
but he does

The plane is racing toward the sunset. The sun glows orange and tiny and impossibly bright, like a singularity. It’s a speck of intense energy that hurts to look at, but who am I to look away? Who am I to pretend I can resist the pull of such power? Who am I to shield my eyes from the closest thing to divinity that I am able to see? We pick up speed, like we’re chasing the sun— like we’re chasing God. I think, in a way, we always are. I’d be lying if I said I’ve seen anything like it. I’d be lying if I said I held onto my breath after seeing it.

They said do not change seats on the plane

For we know your name and where you are sat

I am called Fred and I was sat in the aisle seat

I wanted to sit by the window and see the view

Especially as the big Boeing flying boat took off

The water looked so blue and lovely as we sped along

We took off and it was worth changing seats

The elderly man understood and changed

The view was awesome and to die for

The big engines pulling us along to the sky

When we arrived in New York I’d tell my mum

It was Christmas and I had been staying with my aunt

The trip was six hours and I got to look out the window

I would get into trouble if the airline clerks found out

If we crashed and burned or eaten by fish

They would go off our name and seat number

Matching it up to our ticket and passport

I was too young to have a passport

But that was fine for we were safe in the plane

Boeing built big safe planes especially water ones

Just wait till I told my mum about the view

From our big beautiful Boeing flying boat...

the stitches in my thigh are
healing so now we can all shake hands
and watch the money
poor in. the bombs are not coming,
please come out from
under your desks, you are safe
now and if im being honest
the desks wouldn’t protect you
from the shrieks of a
war plane. they sound
like nothing you’ve
ever heard
a frequency you unlocked
just for this
particular pain. you can almost see
the sound pour into your ear drums
like a bartender mixing
the ***** and the cranberry.
it sounds like 6am
it sounds like the same song
over and over.