In a Plane
Eight hours cooped up in a plane
entubed in fuselage can put a strain
on buttocks squeezed into a seat
with no stretching room for feet.
Add to that the high-pitched cry
of a backseat woman’s brat and I
began to wonder: Was I in a plane
or a tube undergoing an inflight MRI?
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment