Expecting any moment oxygen
Masks will drop. My stomach roils. The sight
Our of the windows veers, and veers again.
The engines hum, and whine, and then give out;
The plane is gliding, then it starts to dive.
It noses down, and then it slips about
Inconstant in its angle. Every gyve
Threatens to cut the lift under the wings
(The only hope for cushioning a crash)
The metal in harmonic tension sings
And all aboard are tensing for a smash.
But then I hear your voice, and hold your hand,
And straighten out, pull up, and smoothly land.
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