Impact.

The plane
oh no
flew into the tree
from the porch where we sit
but came out the other side without injury
to either
and I sigh relief.

This didn't
happen with
towers when
I was a little
girl, only ten.
Well, probably
fourteen. The
news came on
and they said
Nothing Like This Will Ever Happen Again.

Just like that,
in capitals, tall,
with holes in the
letters, the vowels,
for people to
jump through as
they flame on.
To flame on with
papers flying,
because I wanted
to skydive before
I died but not like
this.
Not cut in half, not
with eyes so wide
the blues are bluer
and the ground is
harder, looks harder
than when my knee
ate gravel falling from
the ladder trying to
get onto the roof.
I was nine but now,
now I'm no longer
that excited age.
I fly because I have to.