Yesterday’s news out of SeaTac affected me deeply. This poem grew from those emotions.
or maybe the middle finger to darker memories;
it was easy to forget with a guy named Rich
wanting to perform a barrel roll in a Q400
and see the mama orca and her baby –
fighter jets scrambled, brakes on,
We’re just trying to find a place
a place for you to land safely.
Could you start a left-hand turn, please?
That please squeezed between broke us.
Rich’s apologies and determination
to joyride his way to oblivion –
It’s burned out quite a bit faster
than I expected, he said.
I need to quit looking.
If you enjoy my poetry, please consider a pledge on Patreon. I post weekly poems or fiction, plus glimpses of my progress through a writing diary. I have a goal of thirty patrons, and every new reader in my community makes a big difference. Thank you!