I find my body lost in flight.

My ligaments crumbled and tossed in flight.


Stationed under ventilated breath, I rise;

and my buckled waist gathers frost in flight.


Pressure stifles air in this cabin, high,

forcing my two lungs criss-crossed in flight.


I gasp storm clouds from pipes underneath;

they fill my lungs with exhaust in flight.


My stifled presence has nowhere to go;

I signed myself up for a holocaust in flight.


Outside, we rupture through plaster clouds;

its wreckage clings to my window, embossed in flight.


And parts of me unhitch, and lodge in cumulonimbus shrouds;  

this lostness a necessary cost in flight.