the flight is full
the plane, under my control
great bird, gliding.

already attentive
great bird, gliding
great white crucifix, overhead.

in the co-pilot’s cockpit
a half-empty glass.
he excuses himself
though noone else will.
I stand too
but no salute
reach out,
bolt the door.

He is gone.
I am calm.
I am still
I will take them down
It is my will.

for the better,
from false hopes
of high heaven.
hands beating,
alarms sounding
recorded for posterity
rash against my breathing.

frantic fists
of cast and crew
they try to stop me.
you are too late;
too few.

The great bird plummets
God’s eagle, majestic.
Cleansed, I have cleansed them
I hear pleas, in passing
I forgive them.