TOWARD A HOLE IN THE SKY

Ticket holders squat on their buttocks.
The plane backs from the gate 3 minutes late.
A/C a howling interstellar lummox.                                                                           
7^th in line for takeoff.                                                  
Laissez faire outbreak of blind breath.
Limbs useless in the overhead bin.
Souls of the trees lumbering through tiny windows.

JW Burns lives in Florida. Poetry and prose in several publications including I 70 Review, Ginosko Literary Journal and Caveat Lector.