Matt Caliri Poet Free verse

This Wasn'T Supposed To Be About Planes

I do not wanna subjugate all my laws
At the gates and above center of the 
                                     floating tabernacle.
I cannot be responsible for all your
                                     happiness,
Not to mention the mistrust.
And to raise your lids even while my head is bowed,
                                     as is often bowed,
Would be a catastrophe of a miracle.

The plane is swaying, malfunctioning,
The airstrip we worried over landing on was fine,
                                    is fine, will always be fine,

We are the plane,
The airstrip the uncontrollable, unchanging
                                        outside,
And I am here at the gate
With my most recent refundable plane ticket,
Though swaying as I do,
Controlling what little I do,
Like gazing through a window's volcano view.

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Constance La France March 31, 2010 at 11:56 AM I just loved the poem and the last stanza is incredible.. now for your assingment in my In Search of the Human Mind... it is grief... love Constance

Doris Culverhouse March 27, 2010 at 7:54 PM Like the plane personified poem, especally the last of it. plane riding is so stressful because we can't drive/pilot.