India - Russell Buker - Bog

silacious dust blows
across
as our planet's cross
winds
grow the footless
sculpted
wings unseen by
pilots
and passengers
strapped
tightly against the
initial
thudding of takeoff
or
mind-change that
had
so many previous
passengers
looking out and muttering
My God
this looks so much
like
where we are going to
die