The Points of a Triangle

Exit 8

I thought I saw a

body in her arms

possibly limp,

possibly living. 

She stalked into the 

woods, cryptic

in feeling,

cold in the air.

A mother

in mourning,

or murder in Mass

cannot be told from the street.

Steps furthering her

as the dark encloses her body

and her patient,

or her prey. 

Staring for the flick of a foot,

the fidgeting of a body,

but nothing moves,

nothing moans. 

I thought I saw a boy,

small and sinless,

as I turned

and took the exit. 

Rocky Road

A walk through the woods

for no reason but a stroll,

Surrounded by trees and rocks

but I am not the only soul.

As my shoes step on grass

I hear a twig snap and a boulder roll,

I remember an old tale of Glastenbury, 

a town with a menacing troll,

But I think to myself,

“It’s probably just a tunneling mole.”

My red coat should keep me warm,

but I still feel cold, 

And before I knew it, 

I felt helplessly alone,

Surrounded by giant rocks 

with a feeling dark as coal.

I’m sure I stand out in my red coat

with only one buttonhole,

Weary of my surroundings

I try to regain control.

But turning around to one massive rock,

it swells and opens up to show a large hole.

I take a deep breath and think,

“The mountain air is taking a toll”

But then it rolled toward me 

and 

I think 

I was swallowed up whole. 

Theories

A flight taking off,

a normal engine rumble,

and a standard shaking.

Floods of “safe flight”

and “text me when you land”,

lighting up phones for the last time.

The glowing blues and greens

endless miles below

in a stain-glass vision.

A tiny plane on a screen

signaling the arrival

that does not exist.

A lurch,

an unnatural rumble,

and the feeling of falling.

An enigma of gravity,

a spiritual force,

or a government conspiracy.

No one considers the theories

as the plane spirals down,

flailing towards the blues and greens.

Screams and prayers fill the cabin

as the sun screeches into the plane

until it is submerged in darkness.