Sea
By Jana Hellen
Smoke spirals through your lungs.
Below, the sea is made of rocks
And shards of glass
You bank sideways
Briefly – a slipstream carries you, then departs
You continue to dive
Nose first, tail slicing clouds
The bull’s-eye on the underside of the wing is reflected in the water
Now you can see there are no rocks and no glass, just bloated waves
Goggles tighten around your eyes
A radio breathes, somewhere
Condensation gathers on the windows – or is it sea spray?
A photo tucked into the window frame flutters
The pretty woman on it smiles, keeps dancing
The plane rolls
You’re upside down, and you can't see
But you don’t need to see to know where you’re headed –
To the rocks and shards of glass